


call it what you want

by cmc



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Ambassador Zuko, Bisexual Sokka (Avatar), Gay Zuko (Avatar), M/M, Mutual Pining, Mystery, Politics, Post-Canon, SWT Ambassador Zuko, Sokka (Avatar)-centric, Southern Water Tribe, and i dont recommend reading them bc they're uhhhh not good, idiots to lovers, it's about the hands, kind of based on the North and South comics but you dont have to read them to understand, the inherent homoeroticism of libraries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:27:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27193762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmc/pseuds/cmc
Summary: Ten years after Sozin’s Comet, Zuko officially abolishes the monarchy and is appointed ambassador to the Southern Water Tribe by the newly-elected Fire Nation president. While Sokka is thrilled to have his best friend in town, his arrival coincides with the already growing tensions between an extremist group led by a man named Gilak and the people from the Fire Nation, Earth Kingdom, and Northern Water Tribe currently residing in the South. When a proposed oil refinery by a brother and sister duo from the Northern Water Tribe makes things even worse, Sokka isn’t sure the tribe will be able to survive the conflict in one piece.Then a Fire Nation diplomat goes missing. Then things start to get really weird.
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar), Mai/Ty Lee (Avatar) - background, Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), eventual bato/hakoda
Comments: 61
Kudos: 120





	1. one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the result of a few things:
> 
> 1) me trying to force myself to actually follow through with a fic idea for once in my fucking life  
> 2) one day my brain went 'what if sokka and zuko solved mysteries in the SWT together?????????'  
> 3) 5 months straight of zukka brain rot  
> 4) reading the north and south comics again and being like 'okay but what if these were actually... good? and also everyone was gay?' (i borrowed some characters and the basic plot from the comics but changed almost everything else, so you dont have to have read them to understand. the only panel worth looking at is the zukka hug tbh)  
> 5) my desperate need to be a part of the "zukka fics with taylor swift lyrics as the title" squad

It takes Zuko ten years to officially abolish the Fire Nation monarchy.

Sokka doesn’t really understand why the fuck it takes so long, honestly. Zuko first had the idea two years into his reign when his brain was suddenly like, _He_ _y, maybe we shouldn’t entrust the future of a whole ass country to the hands of an eighteen-year-old with a lifetime worth of untreated trauma who also doesn’t have any actual qualifications for holding a government office besides being the one person in the royal family that does not want to actively commit genocide?_ It turns out, Zuko’s brain _is_ capable of producing a good idea every once in a while. Sokka is pretty sure his average is two per year.

But it turned out establishing a democracy was actually kind of complicated — who knew, right? It sounded fascinating to Sokka in Zuko’s letters, his friend describing setting up branches of government and election procedures and term limits and drafting official government documents for the laws of the nation that had to be signed off by a majority of lords and representatives from the lower classes before they could be officially adopted. It was the last one that took the most time — the council had to draft at least thirty-four different versions of a certain document about legislative branch elections before the lower class representatives and the higher-up lords would even begin to sit at the same table. 

Zuko wrote Sokka often during the eight years of transition, for advice and, more often, to complain. It was not lost on either of them that between the two, Sokka was undoubtedly more suited for figuring out the minutiae of establishing a new government system, and Zuko should have been the one dicking around at home and inventing seventeen fun new ways to get hypothermia.

But eventually — finally — right after Zuko’s twenty-sixth birthday, a majority consensus had been reached, the official government documents were signed into law, and the first presidential election was scheduled. Zuko sold all the extremely gaudy (stolen) gold and precious jewels in the palace to pay for new government facilities while the palace would be turned into a museum, and a smart, middle class woman named Ayumi was elected a few months later as the nation’s first president. She very kindly offered Zuko a position in the newly formed government as the ambassador to the Southern Water Tribe, which Zuko gratefully accepted since he actually had to earn his own money now ( _I get an actual paycheck now, Sokka! How exciting!!!)._ He wrote Sokka, Katara, and Hakoda the news, gathered the belongings he actually held any emotional attachment to (the portrait of his uncle, his swords, that hunk of a copper pipe Toph sent him that she had metalbent into a tiny figure of herself flipping him off), and promptly fucked off to the South Pole. 

The day Zuko is due to arrive, Sokka very conveniently finds an excuse to stand at the front of the village — no, _city_ , honestly, he can barely even recognize his home anymore, something that makes him feel proud and also extremely old — near the docks. Zuko has taken an honest to god _commuter_ ship down south — a transportation company from the Fire Nation had established commercial travel routes a few years ago between the Earth Kingdom, Fire Nation, both Water Tribes, and even the Northern Air Temple. There was a regularly scheduled ship that traveled between the Southern Water Tribe and the Fire Nation every two weeks, bringing with it trade goods, merchants, raw materials, and travelers. Any dignitaries from the Fire Nation usually used one of the government’s ships, but for some unknown reason Zuko had decided to buy a coach ticket and travel with the rest of the commoners.

Sokka decides to spend the morning inspecting the wall surrounding the village — god, no, _city_ , because it _is_ a city now, no longer the little familiar cluster of igloos and tents that he grew up with, but a bustling, growing hub with trade and restaurants and actual _streets_ and they have a _bank_ now, what the hell? Sokka had a fair hand in helping with the design, because it turned out city planning was actually incredibly sexy. His work in the Southern Reconstruction Project is stamped across the angle of every street corner, his name etched into the calculated slope on which every house was built, his entire heart and soul carved into the strategically placed docks near the commerce center. He absolutely could not be any more proud.

The wall, though. The wall is his baby. A very sexy baby. A very sexy baby that would probably win one of those baby beauty contests Toph told him that they have in the high society world in the Earth Kingdom. God, rich people are a fucking trip.

After his father and the rest of the men in the tribe had left to fight in the war, thirteen-year-old Sokka had become a teeny, tiny, _eensy_ little bit completely and totally obsessed with the wall surrounding the city. He had to protect everyone. The wall was for protection. Therefore, the wall had to be perfect, and little preteen Sokka had worked his little preteen fingers off making sure there were no cracks or potential weak spots or holes that could allow a snow leopard caribou to sneak in and eat the entire cache of frozen arctic hen meat because he was _not_ dealing with that again.

Now that he has over a decade of perspective, he understands his obsession a little better. If the wall couldn’t protect them, then… Sokka couldn’t protect them either. And if Sokka couldn’t protect the tribe then he wasn’t worth anything to anyone, not his father, not his dead mother, least of all his little sister. So he made the wall perfect, spent hours every day checking up on it, and it _did_ hold up. That is, until — well.

He can remember that day very clearly. Painting his face and wrapping his hands just the way he had practiced, to the point of obsession, at night while Katara and Gran Gran were asleep. Putting on his battle clothes and grabbing his club and his boomerang. A small kid — a boy — a _child_ , standing alone on the wall of his village, the only line of defense — eclipsed by a giant monster of steel and steam and fear.

This time, when the Fire Nation ship slowly emerges out of the fog, the only emotion Sokka feels is excitement.

When the ship gets close enough, Sokka gives up pretending to inspect his wall — it’s perfect, of course, his beautiful baby — and heads over to the docks, standing a few meters away from the point where the wooden planks meet the snow-covered ground. He’s not alone — a group of men, women and children have gathered around as well, most likely to greet returning merchants in their families as they finally come home. There’s a little girl sitting on top of her dad’s shoulders, and she suddenly starts bouncing excitedly, smacking her dad on top of his head with her flailing hands. Sokka looks up and sees a woman waving wildly on deck, leaning over the rails in a way that is almost definitely against safety regulations. 

Sokka spends a moment smiling at the scene, taking in the genuine excitement of a family about to be reunited, when a figure appears next to the waving woman, and — it’s Zuko.

Sokka sees him first. He watches Zuko’s tiny face and is just able to make out Zuko squinting out at the crowd, his hand coming to rest over his eyes like a visor, looking for someone. Sokka doesn’t wave, just waits for Zuko’s gaze to finally land on him. He can tell the moment it does — Zuko’s face lights up, noticeable even from the distance, and the hand that had been shading his eyes flies up into the air and he, too, starts waving, just as excited as the woman next to him.

Sokka feels warm in a way that usually isn’t possible in the South Pole without sitting directly on top of a fire, and he lifts his hand and waves back, smiling.

When the ship finally reaches the dock, the woman and Zuko disappear after a few final waves. It takes a minute for everyone to start flooding out, and when the docking ramp finally lands securely on the ground, the woman that had been next to Zuko is the first one out. She runs to the man and the little girl and throws her arms around them, all three of them chattering wildly, happily.

Zuko is, of course, the last one off.

When all of the other people — most of them in blues, some in red, even a few in Earth Kingdom greens — have exited the ship and most of the crowd has shuffled away, Zuko finally emerges, another man in red at his side. Zuko is almost the exact opposite of the first day Sokka met him — stalking down his ship’s ramp into the village like he owned the place, rage filling every crevice of his body so completely that you could see it leaking out with every step he took. He’s relaxed, now, walking and talking with the other man with the ease of someone who knows what they’re about. It is, Sokka decides, a good look for him.

The man speaking to Zuko gives him a parting wave when they reach the end of the dock, and he heads off in the direction of the city. He’s middle aged, with greying hair and the trim physique of someone who works with their hands a lot. Sokka has never seen him before, but he doesn’t pay him a second thought when Zuko starts walking towards him.

Sokka takes a few steps, waving, just waiting for Zuko to reach him — and when he finally does, Zuko wraps him up in a hug that warms him all the way to his toes.

“Hey,” Zuko greets, his arms squeezing around Sokka’s shoulders. Zuko’s shorter than him but just barely, ever since they both hit their growth spurts and Sokka overtook him in height, and the bottom half of his face fits snugly against Sokka’s shoulder. Sokka grips him back — he hasn’t seen him in person in almost a year, and he wraps his arms around Zuko’s middle, holding him tight.

When they pull apart he pats Zuko on his shoulder a few times and gets a good look at his friend’s face. He looks — happy, at ease in a way Sokka isn’t sure he’s ever seen.

“Welcome to the working class, buddy,” Sokka says, smirking, and Zuko laughs.

“Happy to be here,” Zuko replies. “It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah, it’s — ” Sokka frowns. “Is that _all_ you brought?” Zuko is only carrying two medium sized bags, slung over his shoulder, and though he’s wearing a few extra layers, his clothes are definitely only designed to withstand Fire Nation winters — i.e., a somewhat cool breeze. Sokka is cold just looking at him. “They did tell you you’re living here now, yes?”

“The old parka you gave me doesn’t fit anymore!” Zuko explains. “Besides, I can — ” he breathes out fire and Sokka is suddenly transported to ten years ago, stuck in the middle of a boiling lake inside a volcano with a poorly hatched escape plan, Zuko smirking up at him — _Yes. I have. Completely_.

Sokka rolls his eyes and shoves Zuko’s head to the side, ruffling his hair; Zuko swats at him.

“I always forget how much of a fucking moron you are,” Sokka says, pulling on Zuko’s shoulder to follow as he begins walking back towards the city. Zuko falls in step with him, their boots crunching along in the soft snow on the ground. “I can give you an old one, _again_. You’re lucky I just had a new parka made or your dumb ass would freeze by dinner.”

“Once again,” Zuko shoots out a small fireball into the air in front of them, “I think I’m good.”

“That’s nice, but I would like the inside of my apartment to _not_ be set on fire, thank you,” Sokka says. “We can stop by my place first — you have to stay with me for the next two nights anyway, since Sumi isn’t leaving until the next ship out — I cleaned my fucking bathroom for you, by the way, you better appreciate what a generous and hospitable host I am.”

“Thank you so much for doing the absolute bare minimum.”

“You’re welcome!” Sokka smiles, slinging his arm around Zuko’s shoulders. “I told Katara we’d stop by when you got here, and then we can go see Dad and Sumi — _and_ I have a surprise for you.”

Zuko glances over at Sokka, one of his eyebrows raised — or, well, his only eyebrow — skeptical. “Does it involve a tap dancing mink snake again?”

“He has a name!”

“ _No_ , Sokka — ”

“Yes!” Sokka uses his arm still slung across Zuko’s shoulders to put him in a headlock. “Say his name!”

“Augh — Sokka! Let go!”

Sokka scrubs his closed fist back and forth across Zuko’s hair. “Say his name and I’ll let go!”

“Fine — fine! Sminky! His fucking stupid name is Sminky!”

Sokka releases him with a satisfied smile, the same one he always gets when he succeeds in making Zuko look like a complete tool. Zuko shoves him away, huffing, and they resume walking.

“ _Does_ it involve — ” Zuko closes his eyes and sighs — “ _Sminky?_ Because I really don’t want a repeat of me getting poisoned like last time.”

“Katara got there just in time to heal you! I don’t know what you’re still complaining about,” Sokka dismisses. “But, no, if you must know, it does not involve Sminky.” Sokka frowns. “I’m pretty sure Sminky got eaten by a polar bear dog.”

“Good.”

Sokka lifts his arms threateningly.

“I mean — R.I.P., Sminky.” Zuko rolls his eyes again. “Gone too soon.”

“Goodnight sweet prince.”

“Forever in our hearts.”

They finally make it to the gate at the entrance to the city, and the glittering, ice-covered buildings wink hello to them in the sunlight as they make their way down the main street towards Sokka’s apartment. Zuko is no stranger to the city — as Fire Lord he made many diplomatic visits to the south on official state business, and he usually spent at least a week out of the year on vacation there, just as regular Zuko, to see his friends. He hadn’t been able to in the last year because the government transition was too hectic to allow for a vacation, but it’s still mostly the same since the last time he was here. Auntie Ashuna waves at the both of them from her cart and shoves some free seal jerky into their hands — which Zuko very discreetly passes to Sokka once they’ve walked a safe distance past her.

“I still don’t understand how you can eat those,” Zuko says as Sokka gnaws a bite off one of the sticks. “They’re hard as rocks.”

“You know I like having something hard in my mouth,” Sokka quips, just to see Zuko blush, which he does — gloriously. 

“I — ” Zuko sputters, choking on air, “ — really wish you hadn’t said that.”

Sokka slings an arm around Zuko’s shoulders again, accidentally smacking Zuko in the face with the jerky he has clutched between his fingers like claws as he jostles him side to side. “Zuko!” he smiles. “You’re here!”

Zuko looks at him like he’s insane. “I — yes. We’ve literally been talking for the past ten minutes.”

“I know!” Sokka says. “It’s great! You’re here! I get to annoy you all the time now!”

Zuko shoves him off, grabbing Sokka’s hood and pulling it over his head and down over his face so he can’t see. Sokka smacks blindly with his seal jerky claws until Zuko lets him up.

“You annoyed me all the time when I was still in the Fire Nation, genius,” Zuko says. “Or did you forget about that package you sent me where the confetti exploded in my face?”

Sokka cackles. “Yeah, but now I get to annoy you in _person_ , so it’s even better. You are so lucky to have me as a friend.”

Zuko rolls his eyes again — seriously, he’s done it, like, twenty times already since they met at the ship, Sokka thinks that might be a new record — and doesn’t deny it.

They reach Sokka’s apartment in the center of the city — it’s one of the taller buildings, adjacent to city hall. He’s on the fourth floor, and he has a killer view of that one iceberg out to the left that looks like a boob, so that’s cool. Sokka opens the door after they’ve hiked the four flights of stairs, letting Zuko in first as he jangles his keys out of the lock.

He shuts the door behind him, and Zuko’s already throwing his stuff down on Sokka’s lumpy brown couch. “I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

“Well — yeah,” Sokka says. “Where else would you sleep?”

Zuko blinks. “Oh. I thought — you might offer to sleep on the sofa. And give me the bed. So.” He shrugs. “I’ll — get the sofa.”

“Why the fuck would I do that? It’s my apartment!”

Zuko scoffs, incredulous. “You were just going on about what a gracious and hospitable host you are!”

Sokka laughs at him. “Oh, Zuko,” he sighs. “You are so fucking funny.”

***

Katara’s waterbending school-slash-home is on the outskirts of the city, outside of the surrounding wall — which she had very strategically planned, because she flat-out refused to pay rent, and if she built her own house she didn’t have to.

 _(“The fact that there are_ property owners _now and they’re making people pay_ rent _to live in the city — ” she had huffed, and if she had been a firebender she would have had steam pulsing out of her nostrils — “is fucking_ ridiculous! _What’s next, we start charging people every time they need a healer?”_

_Sokka, who had been doing all the work to build her house’s foundation while Katara stormed around and angrily splashed a bunch of water, said, “Pretty sure they’re already doing that, Katara.”_

_There had been a shockingly loud crack, not dissimilar to the day they found Aang, and a nearby block of ice exploded.)_

Pakku had actually offered Katara a partnership at _his_ waterbending school, at which Katara had blanched, and, as politely as possible, declined. The words that came out of her mouth had been something like _“Oh! I’m flattered, but — I — want to establish a school of my own, so, haha! But — thanks!”_ while her eyes had screamed _“Fuck no.”_ Sokka, who had watched the entire exchange go down while at a family dinner, had to excuse himself to the bathroom because he was laughing so hard he started choking on a sea prune and almost died before he got a chance to hit his mid-thirties sexiness peak.

Pakku’s school attracts most of the wanna-be warrior-type alpha boys and men (Sokka has grown up enough to be able to cop to the fact that he one thousand percent would have joined Pakku’s school at 15 if he had been a waterbender) who had moved down from the north, while Katara’s students were mostly southerners, girls, and women from the north. There had been a number of waterbenders born in the south since the war ended, so she has quite a few girls and boys under age ten in her beginners class. Her adult class pupils range in age from 18 to 85, and there are even a few of the benders from the swamp who had moved down south to learn from her (fortunately, they were all forced to wear pants because of the cold). Sokka is a regular feature at the school, dropping in on her classes whenever he was finished at work and had nothing to do, or happened to be in the area with few minutes to spare. He's frequently the victim of target practice, but Katara always has snacks for her students that Sokka steals when she isn’t looking, so he puts up with it. Anything for snacks.

Zuko, now decked out in Sokka’s old parka, Sokka’s old pants, Sokka’s old gloves, and Sokka’s old boots (he had offered up some old underwear, too, but Zuko had to draw the line somewhere), waits behind Sokka as he cracks open the front door and peeks inside. Katara’s with her younger kids, demonstrating some bending forms as they all sit on the ground in front of her, gazing up at her movements with big, owlish eyes in rapt attention. Sokka graciously allows for a few more moments of uninterrupted learning before he gets bored. 

“ _Psssssst,_ ” he hisses. 

Katara doesn’t hear him. 

“ _Pssssssssssssst,”_ he tries again, with a little more feeling. A few girls near the door notice him and they point, giggling. 

“ _PSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSST_ ,” he hisses a third time, spit flying out of his mouth and onto the floor, and now the entire group of kids openly laughs at him, Katara’s lesson forgotten. Katara finally notices that no one is paying attention and glances around, the water she was bending swirling gracefully back into the bucket on the floor. She turns around and spots Sokka, her eye twitching. 

“ _What?_ ” she asks, annoyed. Then she seems to remember that Sokka is there for a reason other than to just be annoying, and the irritation slides off her face. “Oh, is — ?”

“Yep.”

She turns back to her students. “Alright, take fifteen.” The kids quickly scramble off the floor and scamper off to the next room over, where the snacks are. Sokka tries not to be too envious. 

“As requested,” Sokka says, swinging the door open all the way to reveal Zuko. Katara grins and rushes over to give him a big hug, squeezing him so hard he lets out a little squeak.

“I can’t believe you _live_ here now, Zuko!” she says when she pulls back, turning to Sokka. “Prince Ponytail! Living in the South Pole! Aww, remember when he attacked the village and wanted to kill us all?” Katara dramatically clutches at her heart, wiping a fake tear away from her eye. “They grow up so fast.”

Zuko looks like he’s about to argue that, actually, he did _not_ want to kill everyone, before he sighs and decides to let Katara have her fun. 

“How was the trip down here?” Katara asks. “I still can’t believe you traveled on a commercial ship. Are you _asking_ for another assassination attempt?”

"That’s what I said!” Sokka interjects, before Zuko can answer. “There’s no way the palace guards thought that was a good idea.”

“Funny story,” Zuko says. “The palace guards are now the president’s security team, and it wouldn’t be a good look if we allocated funds from the newly-formed democratic government to ensure the safety of the ex-monarch on a luxury cruise.”

“Oh, he totally wanted an assassination attempt,” Katara says, looking at Sokka.

Sokka nods. “Look at him, he needs to punch something so badly it’s insane.”

“I do not need to punch anything!” Zuko says. “We made my travel plans based on level-headed logical thinking and rational strategy discussions!”

Sokka and Katara look at each other and burst out laughing.

“More like, you threw a hissy fit and said ‘I can do what I want’,” Sokka snickers. 

“I changed my mind,” Zuko says, stalking back towards the door. “I’m going back to the Fire Nation.”

Sokka snags his arm and tugs him back. “The ship doesn’t head out for another two days, so you couldn’t even if you wanted to, stupid.”

“I’ll _swim_ back.”

“Nuh uh,” Sokka shakes his head. “We have our meeting. And you have to see my surprise! You’re going to love it so much, dude, you’re gonna jizz so hard it’ll come out of your _nose_.”

“ _Sokka!”_ Katara scowls. “There are five years olds _right there!”_ She points to the doorway leading into the next room, incredulous. 

“Oh yeah!” Sokka exclaims, brightening. “Hang on, I’m totally gonna hit up the snacks, what do you have today? Zuko, you want anything?” Sokka asks, slipping away from their little circle and towards the next room.

“Sokka, no,” Katara sighs.

“Get me a cookie!” Zuko calls after him. “Unless it’s made of kale! In which case, do not get me a cookie!”

Sokka shoots double finger guns at Zuko, who shakes his head and smiles back as Sokka heads into the other room. Katara’s students are surprisingly well-behaved — or, maybe not so surprising, considering they’re _Katara’s students_. Most of them are scattered around the low, child-sized tables under the windows, a few are over at the snack table, and there’s a group of girls in the corner that look like they’re playing some kind of elaborate game involving a lot of growling, a bowl filled with mud and sticks, a bunch of crushed up berries, and a doll that looks like it’s had 95% of its hair torn out and is suffering from dysentery. 

Sokka edges around the groups of kids, trying to avoid stepping on any tiny fingers or toes — good fucking lord, _how_ are children this tiny? — as he makes his way over to the snack table. A few kids from the table stand up suddenly and start running around in circles, using Sokka’s body as some kind of obstacle — what the fuck — and one tries to weave through his legs, so Sokka lifts his right leg up and balances on his left foot. They grow bored of him after a minute and start running around the chair in the corner (fun?), and Sokka finally makes it to the food.

The snack table is ridiculously low to the ground, made for child-sized arms, and Sokka has to bend over almost in half just to inspect the goods. It’s an impressive spread today — looks like Aang’s work, mostly, so he must have baked before he left on Appa this morning. Sokka is comparing the integrity of the custard swirls sitting atop the tarts versus the potential crunchiness of the nut-filled cookies and whether or not cookies beating tarts is something he agrees with philosophically when he feels a gentle tug on the bottom of his shirt.

He looks down. It’s one of the girls who was in the corner. Sokka thinks her name might be Sura.

She stares up at Sokka with giant, dinner plate-sized eyes. She has that weird snot/crust hybrid under her nose that all little kids seem to perpetually suffer from, which is fucking disgusting. 

“Do you want to play with us, Mr. Sokka?” she asks.

Five minutes later, Sokka has three twigs sticking out of his hair, red berry juice painted in horizontal blocks under his eyes, and a pillow shaped like a seashell clutched to his chest.

“But _I_ have the princess shield!” Sokka says. “It’s supposed to make me invincible!”

“Amka stabbed you with the sword from the misty river!” Sura says, pointing at Amka, who is clutching a cracked paint brush like a sword and miming repeatedly stabbing Sokka in the neck. “The sword is the only thing stronger than the shield!”

Sokka whines. “But now I’ll never get to brew my witches’ potion,” he says, dejectedly picking the twigs out of his hair and handing them over to Amka, who sets them on the ground next to her paintbrush sword. Then she starts painting Sokka’s neck with berry juice to look like a giant open wound, which is the exact moment Zuko and Katara choose to pop their heads into the room.

Sokka glances up from his impressively realistic fake wound. Katara is rolling her eyes, but her lips are twitching like she’s holding back a smile. Zuko has his eyebrow raised, impressed, and a small, fond smile blooms slowly across his face.

“Having fun?” Zuko asks.

“I was,” Sokka says. “But now I’m dead and my ghost is trapped in the Cage of Eternity unless someone revives me with spirit water and sets me free.”

“Just like Master Katara did when she saved Avatar Aang!” another little girl announces.

“Totally accurate play-by-play of what happened, Miki,” Sokka nods. “That’s exactly how I remember it.”

“Okay,” Katara says, clapping her hands together. “Everyone clean up, we’re back to work in two minutes!”

Someone at the table groans. “But we didn’t get to play with Mr. Zuko!”

“One minute and fifty seconds!”

The kids all start rushing around, putting everything back in their spots, straightening up the room — Sokka sees Amka wolf down the rest of the berries in one bite, which, like, impressive. Sokka stands up with a groan, cracking his back and swiping the berry juice off his neck. He picks his way carefully across the room, trying to once again avoid stepping on any tiny people. 

“Ready for our meeting?” Sokka asks, when he’s next to Zuko and Katara.

Katara shifts her gaze from the kids to Sokka to give him a piercing glare. “ _Tell me_ you’re finally going to talk Dad out of this refinery shi—” She clamps her mouth shut. “ — refinery _crud_.”

“Meeting’s not about that,” Sokka says. “It’s just us sitting down with Dad and Sumi and showing him his office in the embassy. And I don’t know _how_ Dad even feels about the refinery anymore. That chick from the north keeps bothering him about it.”

“What’s this?” Zuko asks. 

“There’s a plan for a potential oil refinery,” Katara explains, glowering. “And _someone_ isn’t doing _anything_ to convince a certain Head Chieftain slash father that it’s complete _bull_ — crap — because _someone_ thinks it’s a good idea!”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea!” Sokka says. “I also don’t think it’s a _bad_ idea either! I’m — look, I’m not for or against anything, yet, alright?”

“Whatever,” Katara dismisses. She turns to Zuko and gives him another quick hug. “I’m glad you’re here. Do your best to convince Sokka that extracting oil from a giant underground oil field is a _bad_ idea, alright?” She ushers them towards the front door, past her students, who are now all diligently lined up back in the classroom. “Say bye, kids.”

“Bye!” the kids all say together, a few of them waving. Sokka and Zuko wave back, opening the door. Sokka notices Amka still has a mouth full of berries that she’s attempting to swallow, and he laughs.

“I’ll see you later,” Katara says, grabbing the door from Zuko’s grasp and holding it open for them. “Do as I say, Zuko. Now get out of here,” she says, and shoos them outside. 

Sokka makes it five feet away from the door before he realizes he never got his snacks.

***

Hakoda’s office is on the top floor of city hall, with a beautiful, panoramic view of the rest of the city, and Sokka is extremely jealous. His office in the city planning department on the second floor is basically a broom closet, and the only time he gets a view is if he opens his door and wants to catalog everyone who visits the bathroom across the hall. But being the son of the Head Chieftain has its perks, because Sokka gets to barge in past his dad’s secretary and spread all his crap out across the coffee table in the corner when he wants to work somewhere else, and all Hakoda does is roll his eyes. Work-life boundaries, Sokka does not have them. 

When he and Zuko enter Hakoda’s office, Sumi is already there, sitting in one of the chairs in the corner next to the couch. Hakoda looks over from their conversation and smiles when he spots Zuko.

“How was your trip?” Hakoda asks, standing up along with Sumi to greet the two of them. He and Zuko grip each other’s forearms in the Water Tribe greeting, and Hakoda grins at Zuko, giving him a few extra claps on the shoulder before they pull away. Hakoda has always been extremely fond of Zuko — there are certain ways that two people can meet that make it impossible to be anything other than good friends, and it turns out infiltrating a maximum security prison to help stage a successful jail break is one of them. Their relationship grew when Zuko was still Fire Lord and Hakoda was elected Head Chieftain, serving as the representative of all of the villages in the Southern Water Tribe on the global stage. They were frequently allies in political strategy, and Zuko flat out refused to do anything that Hakoda and the Southern Tribe was against. Many people in the Fire Nation saw Zuko’s allyship with the Southern Water Tribe as a weakness, thought that Hakoda was manipulating him to the advantage of the tribe. The truth was much simpler — namely, Zuko was sixteen when he was crowned Fire Lord, had absolutely no fucking idea what he was doing, and Hakoda was the nearest dad for him to latch on to. There was also the fact that the Fire Nation was responsible for the Southern Water Tribe’s degradation, and Zuko would do almost anything to help them rebuild. But mostly the dad thing.

Sokka has no idea how the relationship between the two nations will change now that there is a new head of state. He doesn't know much about the new Fire Nation president, but based on Zuko’s assessment she seems logical and level-headed, so Sokka hopes their good relationship will continue. Considering Zuko is the new ambassador to the Southern Water Tribe, Sokka is assured that at the very least they'll retain Zuko as their number one ally.

The retiring Fire Nation ambassador, Sumi, stands politely next to Hakoda and Zuko as they greet each other. When they finish she and Zuko turn to each other and bow in the Fire Nation manner, and then she and Sokka bow to each other as well. Zuko’s relationship with Ambassador Sumi was purely professional, but Sokka knows Zuko has a fondness for her — she's middle aged, with a kind face and dark yellow eyes; Sokka suspects she reminds Zuko of his mom, though he would never ask Zuko for confirmation.

Once all the greetings are over they all settle down at Hakoda’s more informal meeting area — the couches and chairs surrounding a coffee table in the corner, the one Sokka frequently commandeered as his second office. There's a stain on one of the cushions from when he had accidentally spilled five-flavor soup while he had been working on the city grid for a new housing development in the northern district with only three hours of sleep in his tank — Sokka quickly steers Zuko away from that cushion so he can sit on it himself, because he's noble like that.

“I thought we could go over my responsibilities concerning reporting to Head Chieftain Hakoda and the lines of communication with the other chiefs before I take you over to the embassy,” Sumi begins. “There are a few other people we should meet in this building, too — we should probably stop by the immigration office, and of course there’s the —” which is when Sokka tunes her out.

He wasn’t even officially invited to this meeting — he has literally no reason to be here other than shepherding Zuko around. He’s never worked with the Fire Nation embassy since he has zilch to do with the state department, but he would rather be here than in his sad little office, so he gives himself permission to zone out for a minute.

Hakoda’s office is bright and sunny today with the windows open, the sun high in the sky and not a cloud in sight. The blue of the sky outside matches almost perfectly with the Water Tribe blue furniture decorating the room. Since Zuko is in Sokka’s clothes, Sumi, who had a red parka specially made at some point, is the only pop of red.

Sokka turns his head a bit so he can glance at Zuko, who is listening to Sumi intently, pausing to ask questions to either her or Hakoda every once in a while. He has his hair up in a top knot, a few strands falling loose around his face. For a while in his late teens he had grown his hair out long, past his shoulders, but he had cut it short again recently, around the length it had been when the war ended. Zuko looks good in either length, of course — but there's something about this style that Sokka prefers. Maybe because it reminds him of being a kid.

Zuko looks… Sokka doesn’t even know. He knows Zuko is happy about not being the Fire Lord anymore but he really doesn't know what else he's feeling, because he knows there's deeper shit going on. Zuko doesn't look like a kid anymore because he isn’t, but this might be the first time in his entire life that Zuko could possibly feel unburdened. 

“Alright,” Sumi says eventually. “I think that about covers it here — how about I show you around a little more, and then we can head over to the embassy?”

Zuko nods, and they all stand, adjourning the meeting, or, in Sokka’s case, his nap. Sumi shuffles some scrolls on the table around, gathering them in her arms, as she says goodbye to Hakoda.

“We’ll see you two at the banquet tomorrow!” Hakoda says as they move toward the door, and Sokka has to stifle a laugh, because he can _hear_ Zuko blanch. 

“I — ” Zuko starts.

“It’s not for _you_ , Zuko, jeez,” Sokka says. “It’s a banquet to say bye to Sumi! Just because it also happens to coincide with your arrival doesn’t mean we’re celebrating _you_ , god, we could care less that you’re here.”

Sumi rolls her eyes next to Zuko. “I told them I didn’t want a big thing, and yet they blatantly ignored me.”

“We didn’t ignore you,” Hakoda counters. “We listened to you and we consciously chose to disregard it.”

“You deserve a big shindig, Sumi!” Sokka agrees. “You’ve been the best Fire Nation ambassador we’ve ever had!”

“I’m the _only_ Fire Nation ambassador you’ve ever had.”

“Exactly! Zuko, you have some big shoes to fill. Can you cook an arctic hen to a perfect medium rare in under five minutes?”

Zuko raises his eyebrow in exasperation. “We’re leaving now,” he says, opening the door. “I’ll see you later?” he asks Sokka, letting Sumi out into the hallway first.

“I’ll meet you outside the embassy at five,” Sokka says. Zuko nods, and he and Sumi disappear down the hallway.

“How do you think he’s adjusting?” Hakoda asks, once they’ve left.

“Okay, I think,” Sokka says, grabbing the door knob and starting to close the door. “He forgot to bring a warm enough jacket again, though, so I had to give him some of my old clothes.”

Hakoda frowns. “No, I meant how do you think he’s adjusting to not being Fire Lord anymore?”

Sokka furrows his brows, pausing with the door still open a crack. “Oh, I — shit!”

Someone barrels straight into the room, and the door smacks Sokka in the shoulder, causing him to take a step back. “Fucking _ow_ ,” he whines, and he turns to look at the newcomer.

It’s Gilak, of course.

“I’m so sorry, Head Chieftain —” Hakoda’s secretary, Aput, says apologetically, appearing in the doorway. “He just ran right past me.”

“That’s okay, Aput,” Hakoda says, waving at her. “You can leave us.”

She nods, shooting a questioning look at Sokka, who shakes his head. He’s staying. Aput leaves, the door shutting with a soft click behind her.

“Gilak,” Hakoda sighs. “I really don’t appreciate you barging into my office like this.”

“That’s funny, because _I_ don’t appreciate you inviting outsiders onto my land and allowing them to pump oil out of the ground!”

“I didn’t invite _anyone_ , and _no one_ is pumping any oil yet!”

“Then why is there a construction crew sniffing around the edge of my property with a giant drill?” 

Hakoda stops and sighs again. “Who is it?”

“Who do you think? The same two it’s been, that brother and sister from the north!”

“Okay, look, I’ll talk to them,” Hakoda says. “They don’t have permission to be scouting around your land, nothing has been approved. I’ll talk to them.”

“Good,” Gilak says. “And I have something else to say to you, too.”

“Let’s hear it,” Hakoda says, waving impatiently. 

Gilak turns to level a stare at Sokka. “I want you to hear this as well, Sokka, since you’ll be chief one day, so you listen up, too.”

Sokka frowns. He’s not guaranteed a position as chief — sure, he _wants_ to be, someday, but he has to be elected like everyone else. 

He meets Gilak’s gaze and holds it steadily. Gilak is older and bigger than his dad, a burly man with his silver hair tied back in a wolf tail. He and Hakoda fought in the war together — brothers-in-arms. It’s only recently that their relationship has taken a nosedive.

“The city growth — I get it. I’m glad we’re growing again. But the firebenders, the earthbenders, the _northerners_ — allowing them all in with no regulations _has_ to stop,” Gilak says. “Our sister tribe left us to rot for the better part of a century and now they want to walk in and take control of everything because they think they know better than us. If you,” he points at Hakoda, “keep allowing all of these foreigners in, letting them change _everything,_ then we are going to cease to exist. Sure, we’ll still be here, but we won’t be _us._ The land will be ripped to shreds just like they do in the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom, factories everywhere sucking our land dry — and for what?”

“This is about growing as a nation, Gilak,” Hakoda says.

“If you could take charge like you need to, we wouldn’t need to have this conversation,” Gilak replies. “You had the Fire Lord under your thumb for a decade and nothing came from it besides a more crowded city and steeper taxes. Where are the reparations? Why do _we_ have to change to be more like the other nations in order to prosper? Why can’t you bring us out of the darkness and on to the world stage while we remain _who we are?”_

Hakoda stares back and doesn’t say anything.

“Your old man doesn’t get it,” Gilak says, turning to Sokka. “Maybe you will, someday.”

He storms out of the office without another word.

***

At five o’clock, Sokka stuffs his parka over his head and locks up his office for the night.

He spent the rest of the day thinking about the conversation with Gilak, not getting much else done except for returning a letter to Toph — they’ve been developing a new writing system for people with visual impairments using raised bumps on paper. He asks her whether or not she likes the new dot arrangement for question marks or if they should go back to the old one, takes the opportunity to call her a butt-face rhinoceros beetle while he’s at it, and calls it a day.

When he exits city hall and crosses the short distance over to the Fire Nation embassy, Zuko is already waiting outside.

He’s talking to Sumi. The two of them are next to one of the fountains decorating the courtyard, standing close to each other and talking in hushed tones. Sumi has a serious look on her face as she speaks, and Zuko looks on silently, listening. He’s frowning.

Sumi spots Sokka making his way over and appears to end the conversation, shuffling off with a wave before Sokka can reach them. She shoots Sokka a bright smile as she walks away towards her house, Zuko watching her leave, a concerned look still on his face.

“What was that?” Sokka asks, when he gets close enough.

Zuko shakes his head, turning his gaze back to Sokka. “Nothing,” he says, reassuring, and he smiles. “Alright, what’s this surprise of yours?”

The library has been Sokka’s pet project for the past two years, and he thinks the only other person as excited about it as himself and Katara is Zuko. 

“Whoa,” Zuko breathes, as Sokka opens the big front doors and lets him inside. Zuko spins in place, his gaze tilted up so he can look at the big, graceful ice arches adorning the ceiling, intricately carved with figures depicting the story of their tribe. There are open windows high on the walls letting in the bright, crisp air, which flows gently into the stacks area, the bookshelves lining the walls mostly empty.

“Sokka,” Zuko says when he stops spinning around. “ _Nice_.”

“Isn’t it?” Sokka agreed, excited. “Hang on, you need to see the best part!”

He shuffles Zuko over to a doorway tucked away behind the main desk, opening it up with a flourish. Inside are long wooden tables lined with scrolls and parchment, and the room is filled to the brim with old people.

“Whoa,” Zuko repeats, and then he spots Gran Gran halfway down the table, hunched next to a pile of parchment bigger than her entire body. “Sokka! Did you — ?”

“Get my grandmother a job? Fuck yeah,” Sokka says. “Most of the elders are down here all day writing shit, it’s so fucking cool.”

“Sokka, this is — ” Zuko turns to look at him, smiling. “ _So_ fucking cool.”

Sokka is pretty sure they’re the only two people he knows who would describe a library as ‘so fucking cool,’ but whatever, it _is_. They kept their history alive through stories told around campfires during the war, not out of tradition but out of necessity — the Fire Nation would destroy anything they had written down in raids, so they couldn’t really record much in the past century. The history of the tribe was passed down orally through the generations when the war began, and the current elders — Sokka’s grandmother included — were working their wrinkly fingers to the bone getting everything recorded. It's exciting, being able to have a written history available to _everyone_ for the first time in a _century_ — every time one of the elders finishes writing something Sokka can’t wait to get his hands on it.

They go over and greet Gran Gran, and she shows Zuko what she’s working on, Zuko leaning over her shoulder to read, Sokka looking at the two of them fondly. Despite their disastrous first meeting, Gran Gran developed a major soft spot for Zuko, and when he was gone she always asked Sokka when he was going to ‘bring that nice firebender boy around again’ to which Sokka replied ‘he is literally the leader of an entire _country_ , Gran, I can’t just _bring him around_.’ Gran Gran would usually smack him after that and Sokka would go write to Zuko and ask him to visit anyways.

After they chat with Gran Gran for a bit, Sokka shows Zuko around the rest of the library, including the parts of the stacks that have begun to be filled up with books and scrolls.

“We adopted the Fire Nation classification system, with some modifications, of course,” Sokka explains as they walk among the shelves. Say what you will about the Fire Nation, but they sure knew how to organize the fuck out of a library. “Someone suggested we use the Ba Sing Se system — Tui and fucking La, that library is a _shitshow_ , I swear it took me five weeks to find _one_ book about political movements in the lower ring last time I was there, I don’t know who developed the classification systems in the Earth Kingdom but they deserve to be shot out of a cannon.”

Zuko laughs, his fingers skimming along the spines of the books as they walk. “Harsh.”

“I stand by it,” Sokka says, stopping when he realizes Zuko is no longer walking beside him.

He looks back — Zuko has stopped a few paces behind, and he’s staring intently at something on the shelf in front of him. He reaches his hand up and plucks a book off the shelf, turning it in his hands so he can look at the cover.

He flicks his eyes up to Sokka, his sides of his mouth ticking up. _“Love Amongst the Dragons?”_ he asks, turning the cover to show Sokka.

“Oh!” Sokka feels heat bloom across his cheeks. “Uhm — yeah.”

“Pretty sure this isn’t Water Tribe history,” Zuko quips.

Sokka waves his hand. “It’s a good story. The library doesn’t have to be just our history. Sometimes people just wanna read a good book,” he says. “Besides, I mean.” He chews his lip. “You like it.”

Zuko looks down at the book, smiling softly. “I do.” He flicks his gaze back up to Sokka and just looks at him.

Sokka fidgets. “So,” he finishes, lamely. “You know. Uhm.”

Zuko seems to shake out of his reverie and tucks the book under his arm, and he continues walking. He grabs Sokka’s arm as he passes him, steering them both towards the door.

“What?" Sokka asks, dumbly.

“Sign me up for a library card, genius,” Zuko commands. “Then I get to show you _my_ surprise.”

***

They’ve developed something of an unspoken tradition, every time Zuko visits the South Pole. They grab some food, usually a bunch of meat and bread, and sit on top of the wall surrounding the city, watching the sun set over the water and the glistening icebergs as they eat. Then Zuko will bust out some insane bottle of alcohol he found in the Fire Nation and they attempt to drink it without throwing up.

“I’m honestly scared to know what it is this time,” Sokka says, after they’ve settled on top of the wall. They stopped at Sokka’s apartment for the food before heading over to the wall, climbing up to their usual spot, right at the front of the city. “It can’t be worse than the fermented goat’s milk, right?”

Zuko pulls the bottle out of his bag with a flourish. 

Sokka goes pale. “Is that a _scorpion rattlesnake?_ ”

“From the Si Wong Desert!” Zuko confirms, and pops the cork. “I think we might die.”

“But what a way to fucking go,” Sokka says, staring in anticipation as Zuko takes the first swig. He pulls back, making a face as he swallows.

“Well?” Sokka asks.

Zuko thinks about it, smacking his lips a few times. “It’s — actually not bad?” he says, passing it to Sokka.

Sokka swirls the bottle around, staring suspiciously at the dead scorpion-rattlesnake floating in the liquid. He shoots Zuko a skeptical look. Zuko shrugs in response, smiling far too innocently to be believable. 

“I hate you,” Sokka says, and he takes a drink.

It hits the back of his throat with a sting, and he can feel his entire face scrunch up. He grabs his nose and forces himself to swallow, his eyes tearing up, and Zuko — the bastard — is _laughing_.

“Literally,” Sokka says, when his mouth is empty. “I cannot fucking _stand_ you.”

Zuko pats him on the leg in sympathy. “If it’s any comfort, I won’t be bringing you any more insane booze when I come to visit. Because I live here now.”

“Nuh uh,” Sokka shakes his head, and he goes ahead and takes another swig — _god_ it burns — before passing it back to Zuko. “You’ll go back and visit your mom and Azula and buy some — fucking — blowfish eel sake, and then I’ll have to kill you.” Zuko takes another drink from the bottle and doesn’t even flinch — Sokka _really_ hates him. “How is Azula, by the way?” he asks, taking a bite out of his food.

“Good, I think,” Zuko says. “I went to visit her and Mom before I left — I think she’s doing well living with them.” Zuko puts the bottle down next to him so he can eat, and he swallows before continuing. “It seems like her and Kiyi are really getting along, now.”

“That’s good,” Sokka says. Azula had improved enough to move out of the institution she was staying in two years ago. Sokka hasn’t seen her in person since they went to find Ursa, but according to Zuko’s updates, she’s doing better. 

“Wait, that reminds me,” Zuko says, suddenly sitting up. “Fuck, I can’t believe this wasn’t the first thing I told you when I got off the boat. Azula went on a _date_.”

“ _What?”_

“I know,” Zuko laughs. “When I was visiting, we went for a walk down into the city to go buy dinner for everyone, and we ran into this girl, and Azula started acting _so weird_. She was laughing like — I don’t even know, it was like she couldn’t talk all the sudden. So we’re chatting with this girl for like, a minute, and then we keep walking, and I’m like, what the fuck was that? And,” Zuko pauses, taking a breath. “ _She went on a date with her the week before._ ”

“I — ” Sokka shakes his head, grinning. “Well? How did it go?”

“Apparently pretty well,” Zuko laughs. “Azula said they’re going out again next week.”

“Well,” Sokka says. “Fuck.”

“I know.”

“I mean,” Sokka says, turning back to face the ocean. There’s a breeze sweeping over the water, and when it reaches them it ruffles their hair, bites at their cheeks. “Good for her.” He sets down his food for a bit and rubs his hands together, trying to warm them up — they had both taken their gloves off so they could eat.

“Here,” Zuko says, and grabs his hands, holding them between his own. Zuko’s hands warm up after a second, and Sokka’s hands begin melting against the gentle press of his fingers. 

Zuko holds his hands for a minute, waiting until Sokka can feel his fingers again, both of them silent.

“Thanks,” Sokka says, when he lets go. Zuko smiles at him in return, just a gentle tug at the corner of his mouth.

“Now,” Zuko says, and he grabs the bottle next to him, shoving it in Sokka’s direction. “Chug.”

Sokka laughs. “You can’t order anyone around anymore,” he says, taking the bottle anyways.

“Please,” Zuko scoffs. “I couldn’t order you around even if I was king of the entire planet.”

“True fucking facts,” Sokka says, and he takes a drink from the bottle again, but instead of swallowing he holds the liquid in his mouth. He thwacks Zuko in the arm and points to his bulging cheeks, eyebrows raised.

“Fine,” Zuko says, and lights a flame in his palm, holding it out in front of them. When Sokka sprays the disgusting scorpion rattlesnake juice out, it ignites on contact with Zuko’s flame, sending a fireball out into the air in front of them.

“ _F_ _uck_ yeah,” Sokka cheers as the flames disappear, looking over at Zuko excitedly. Zuko rolls his eyes in response, a fond smile on his face.

Sokka thinks about saying something stupid, suddenly, like, _I’m really glad you’re here_. But he just takes a swig and blows another fireball, smiling when Zuko laughs next to him.

***

At the same time, somewhere in the city, someone begins sharpening a whale-tooth knife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to roz for reading this over and for the clown to clown communication the past few months, you are THE best.


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s an idea for changing the electoral system in the south,” Malina explains. “For the Head Chieftain position. Since all the villages in the south have their own local chieftains, who really exercise the most authority over their individual territories, the Head Chieftain position really doesn’t do much more right now than act as a representative for the amalgamation of the Southern Water Tribe on a global setting — don’t you think so? So if we changed the electoral process it could give the Head Chieftain more authority, so we would have a more cohesive, unified tribe. And to elect the Head Chieftain we could set up this sort of — council, where each village gets a certain number of votes based on their population size. Each village votes for who they want to be Head Chieftain, and the popular vote winner in each village receives that village’s electoral votes. That way all the villages have a more equal say in the election, instead of just the most populous city!” She smiles when she finishes. 
> 
> Sokka stares.
> 
> “Well?” she asks, when he doesn’t say anything after a moment. “What do you think?”
> 
> What is the most polite way to say _'that sounds really, really fucking stupid’_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thank you to roz for reading over this shit

Zuko is still asleep on the couch when Sokka wakes up and stumbles out of his bedroom the next morning.

He must be exhausted from travelling — he usually rises with the sun, the first one awake. Now, he’s lying curled up under the mountain of blankets Sokka gave him last night, his socked feet just barely peeking out the bottom. He took his top knot out to sleep and his hair is a mess against the pillow, the blankets tucked up all the way to his nose so Sokka can only see the upper half of his face.

Still in his pajamas, Sokka takes a quick detour over to the kitchen to fill his tea kettle with water and grab the spark rocks before making his way back to the fireplace in front of the couch. He lights a fire and places the kettle on top of the metal grate, and while he waits for the water to boil he heads back into the kitchen to get the tea leaves ready.

Iroh has turned him into somewhat of a tea guy — he’s constantly sending packages of his newest blends along with secret coded letters about the latest White Lotus meetings, of which Sokka is apparently now a full-fledged member. Sokka has yet to tell Zuko this, because he’s pretty sure Zuko will either blow a gasket or make fun of him forever if he finds out Sokka joined his uncle’s secret old people club. Honestly, though, who is expecting Sokka to find out about a secret ancient society that transcends the divisions of the four nations and _not_ join? Sokka loves secret ancient societies. 

Whatever. The point is Iroh sends him tea now. Sokka is more than okay with this development. He goes into the kitchen and pulls out the latest container he received (there had been a note stuffed beneath the leaves that, after Sokka decoded it, he found said _'_ _If the stone falls upon the egg, alas for the egg! If the egg falls upon the stone, alas for the egg!’_ (which, like… what? Follow up question: huh?)) and heads back over to the fireplace.

A few minutes later, he holds the steaming mug of tea in front of what’s visible of Zuko’s face and says, quietly, “Wake up, dumbass.”

Zuko lets out a sleepy noise and burrows deeper into the blankets in response.

“I’m going to sit on you.”

Zuko makes another noise that sounds like a muffled _“Nooooooooo,"_ but still doesn’t open his eyes.

Sokka takes one step to the left, turns around and slowly starts to lower himself onto Zuko’s middle, careful that he doesn’t spill the tea still clutched in his hand.

Sokka just barely puts any weight on Zuko’s stomach before Zuko suddenly starts scrambling around, his legs kicking out and connecting with Sokka’s ass. “Okay okay okay okay okay,” Zuko grumbles, sitting up as Sokka returns to a standing position.

Zuko rubs at his face, eyes still closed, and yawns, his hair sticking up wildly at all different angles. Sokka nudges the mug of tea against his chin and Zuko blindly grabs it before settling back against the pillows, the mug cradled gently against his chest. Sokka pads over to the other end of the couch and pulls Zuko’s legs aside so he can sit down, grabbing his own mug of tea, and once he does, Zuko immediately puts his feet back in Sokka’s lap.

The windows on the adjacent wall face east, and they drink their tea in sleepy, companionable silence as the morning sun slowly streams into Sokka’s living room. 

Zuko finishes his tea first and sets his mug on the ground, closing his eyes again, resting his head on the back of the couch. 

“Nuh uh,” Sokka says, pinching one of Zuko’s feet, still in his lap, between two fingers and shaking gently. “Get dressed, we have to go get breakfast.”

 _“You_ get dressed,” Zuko grumbles, face smushed against the couch.

Sokka downs the rest of his tea in one gulp and swipes Zuko’s feet off his lap and onto the floor. He stands and stretches, grabbing Zuko’s empty mug and depositing it along with his own onto the counter back in the kitchen. He picks Zuko’s clothes from yesterday off the floor and throws them onto the couch, making sure they thwack him in the face. Zuko pulls the pants now draped across his head down so he can shoot Sokka a glare that could curdle milk.

Sokka responds with a bright and sunny smile. “Come on, we gotta get down there before all the good cuts get snatched up.”

Ten minutes later they’re all bundled up in their furs, making their way down to the smaller docks in front of the city. The crisp air swirling off the waves cresting the shore seems to finally wake Zuko up as they approach the group of people surrounding the morning’s catch.

The communal market — if you could even call it a market, since everything is shared and free — has definitely dwindled since the village became a city after the war, but there are a good amount of people here this morning. They have actual food vendors and restaurants in the city now, and many people, especially those who moved here from elsewhere, prefer the convenience of buying their own food and storing it in iceboxes in their homes. But food sharing has long been essential for the survival of the tribe, and Sokka suspects as long as this current generation of adults and elders is still alive, the tradition will continue on. He hopes so, at least. After that, he isn’t sure. It used to be that any food hunted belonged to the entire tribe, not just any one person or family — food was always shared, and meals were eaten together. The daily practice of the tribe’s hunters waking up before dawn, going out to scare up some food, and then returning to share it with the rest of the tribe may give way to modern convenience, like so many more of their traditions already have. With more and more housing developments being built in the city, people were starting to disconnect from the tribe at large, choosing instead to spend time only with their immediate family members. And that’s fine — Sokka understands it, really. But he misses the big gatherings of his youth, everyone coming together, talking and laughing when the hunters returned. 

Katara, Gran Gran, and Pakku are all already here — Sokka and Zuko find them quickly in the crowd and nudge their way into their little circle. Gran Gran is munching on some bannock, and Sokka gives her puppy eyes until she relents and tears him off a piece.

“What was the poison last night?” Katara asks. They had invited her to one of their disgusting booze nights a while ago, back when they first started, upon which Katara had taken one glance at a bottle with pickled eggs sloshing around inside and vehemently declined. 

“Awamori,” Zuko replies.

“With a _rattlesnake scorpion_ ,” Sokka adds.

“Oh, I’ve had that,” Pakku says. “The rattlesnake scorpion is able to mate for up to twenty-six hours straight, so those who drink it are believed to inherit those abilities as well,” he explains, which is an image Sokka will have to kill himself to get rid of.

Luckily, Hakoda and Bato choose that exact moment to join the circle, arms laden with fresh fish, saving Sokka from his premature demise. Hakoda doesn’t hunt every morning — his position doesn’t allow for it, and neither does Sokka’s — but Bato does. Bato, like many of the men from the original village, does not have a paying job, choosing instead to devote his time to hunting, feeding the tribe, and crashing in Hakoda’s spare room. 

“Zuko, could you start the fire?” Bato asks, pointing to the fire pit on the ground with his foot. 

“Of course.” Zuko flicks his hand and sends a small flame to land on the kindling, growing it larger when it ignites on contact. There are a few kids running around nearby and they stop and _oooh_ , staring at the unfamiliar bending display with wide, curious eyes.

Ashuna’s face suddenly pops up next to Gran Gran’s shoulder. “Excuse me, Kanna,” she says. “Zuko, would you be a dear and start our fire over here as well?” she asks, which then results in Zuko circling around for the next five minutes and lighting everyone else’s fire in the crowd.

“Is Aang coming back today?” Sokka asks, stuffing some food in his mouth. It looks like Zuko has been recruited now to preheat someone’s pan — Sokka holds back a snicker.

“Tomorrow, I think,” Katara answers. “Or maybe the day after. You know Oyaji always tries to keep him in Kyoshi as long as possible.”

“Well, it _is_ Kyoshi Day,” Sokka says. “Gotta keep him around to soak up as much of that Kyoshi juice as possible, you know?”

Zuko finally appears back next to him, and immediately grabs the fish directly out of Sokka’s hands, scarfing it down.

“I have been _working,"_ he says in response to Sokka’s indignant noise.

“Working? All you have to do is — ” Sokka flicks his wrist out lazily in a poor imitation of firebending. “There is more _right there,”_ he says, pointing to the fish cooking over the fire.

“Yours tastes better,” Zuko shrugs, taking another bite.

“My meat tastes better?” Sokka asks, and Katara and Gran Gran both smack him.

“Mr. Zuko?” a small voice asks, and Zuko and Sokka both look down between them. A group of kids has gathered behind them, a few of them from Katara’s class yesterday. “Will you do the pretty fire for us?” Sura asks.

“Sure,” Zuko says, and the kids all cheer. Zuko steals another bite of fish from Sokka and starts moving a safe distance away, the kids all following behind him like baby turtle ducks.

“Wait,” Sokka hears one of the newer kids from Katara’s class whisper. “Is he in our grade?”

“That’s the _Fire Lord,_ dummy!” Miki replies loudly.

Once they’re a few yards away, Zuko instructs them all to stand a good distance back, giving him room. When they’re all out of range, Zuko bends his knees, punches one fist down into the air, and rainbow-colored fire swooshes out, forming a fire-cyclone around him. The kids all cheer, bouncing up and down excitedly, gazing up at all the different pinks and greens and purples. Sokka looks on fondly when he hears a scoff behind him.

He turns around — it’s Gilak.

Gilak is standing around the next fire over, surrounded by other men. He hunts every morning, same as Bato, bringing food back to feed the community. He has a small, devoted following that seems to be always at his side these days, a fact which is giving Sokka an ever-growing uneasy feeling in his stomach.

Sokka is about to ask Gilak what the fuck his problem is when he notices that Gilak isn’t glaring at Zuko — he’s glaring at someone else.

Two figures are wandering around the edge of the crowd, chatting to a big group of people. One of them is a man with glasses, and the other is a woman in the faded-purple colors in fashion with the women of the Northern Water Tribe. Sokka suppresses the urge to groan.

Katara follows his gaze and spots the two figures as well, and her face instantly hardens. “Are they _canvassing_ right now?” she says. “Seriously?”

Malina and Maliq are from the Northern Tribe, something that is painfully obvious to every single person with eyes and ears and a general understanding of how to use their brains. Sokka’s pretty sure Maliq had never laid eyes on a fishing pole in his life before coming here. They moved here about a year ago, from the Earth Kingdom, actually, where they had been busy establishing their own energy company. At some point they heard that the Southern Water Tribe is sitting on top of the largest deposit of oil in the entire world, and now they’re here, trying to drum up enough support to build an oil refinery.

And apparently, they’re now lobbying during breakfast.

Sokka glances back at Gilak, who looks like he’s about to have a conniption. So does Katara, frankly. 

“Dad,” Sokka says. 

“Huh?” Hakoda looks up from the fire, not paying attention to what’s been happening. Sokka points with his chin over to Malina and Maliq, now bothering a group of elders who are looking increasingly annoyed. “Can you say something?”

“Shit,” Hakoda curses under his breath, standing. He wipes his gloves against his pants before cuffing Bato’s shoulder and starting towards the two northerners. “Give me some back up,” he asks, and Bato follows without hesitation.

They all watch silently as Hakoda and Bato make their way over to the pair. They pull the two aside, away from the elders, and begin talking, Hakoda with a concerned look on his face as he explains that maybe they shouldn’t be accosting the elders about building a factory during breakfast. They’re too far away to hear, and Katara mutters under her breath the entire time until the conversation stops. Malina nods to Hakoda, seemingly apologetic, while her brother glowers at her side but says nothing.

Zuko appears next to Sokka again. He follows everyone’s gaze and furrows his brow.

“What’d I miss?” he asks.

“Bullshit,” Katara answers, watching as Hakoda and Bato begin walking back over. Gran Gran must be pissed, too, because she doesn’t even scold Katara for swearing.

“What’d they say?” Sokka asks when the two men return.

“They were very apologetic,” Bato answers.

Katara snorts. “Sure.”

“It did seem like they genuinely didn’t know that now isn’t an appropriate time for lobbying,” Hakoda says.

“We don’t have the same food sharing traditions in the Northern Tribe,” Pakku says. “It does take some time to get used to.”

“They’ve been here for a year,” Katara replies. “And they shouldn’t even be trying to build the stupid factory in the first place!”

“Katara,” Gran Gran interrupts before Katara can get even more pissed off. “We’ll discuss this later, alright?”

Katara just nods and angrily tears off a hunk of fish meat with her teeth, chewing aggressively. 

Malina and Maliq don’t leave. Instead, they join the group surrounding the nearest fire, and begin eating. 

***

Sokka has had many enemies in his twenty-five years on this bitch of an earth. 

Ozai, obviously. Azula and her girl gang. Zhao. Zuko and Iroh. Long Feng. Combustion Man. The creepy giant owl librarian. _Hahn._ Whoever it is that keeps feeding the arctic squirrels that live near city hall because they’re getting _way_ too bold. 

None of them compare to _him_.

 _He_ is there when Sokka goes to Katara’s for lunch later that day. _He_ is sitting perched on the front porch like he owns the fucking place. The _nerve_. The _audacity_.

Sokka stands at the bottom of the little steps that lead up to the porch and glares at The Enemy.

“Are you going to let me in?” he scowls. “Or is it gonna be a whole _thing_ again?”

The narwhal goose honks in response.

He — because it is definitely a he; female narwhal geese don’t have tusks — nests somewhere around Katara’s house. Sokka has never been able to pinpoint the exact coordinates of the nest, because the narwhal goose is as elusive and cunning as it is fucking annoying. It’s definitely somewhere around here, though, because as soon as Katara’s house was finished, he arrived. Then he fell in love with another male narwhal goose, so now he has a husband, and they spend all their time whacking their ridiculously long tusks into things together in what Sokka assumes is an elaborate and intricate courtship dance. This season Katara decided to become the worst person in the entire world and give them some spare eggs from another nest to raise, so now they have a whole little brood of terrifying monsters that make Sokka’s life a living hell. 

The narwhal goose stares back at Sokka coolly, its little beady black eyes soulless and still, the long, pointy tusk sticking out right above its beak. 

Sokka raises his foot.

The narwhal goose ruffles its tail feathers.

Sokka sets his foot down on the first step. It creaks.

The narwhal goose explodes in a flurry of feathers and fins and honks and immediately charges. Sokka shrieks and whirls around and _hauls ass_ in the opposite direction. He can hear the narwhal goose gaining on him because oh yeah, it can _fly_ , because that’s completely fucking fair, and then he feels the long, pointy tusk whack against his ankles and he falls flat on his face and eats shit.

He immediately scrambles around in the snow, kicking randomly to try to keep the stupid thing at bay because he is _not_ getting gored by a narwhal goose and having to get his leg amputated after his foot gets infected — Sokka actually thinks he would look rather dashing with a peg leg, but god, this would be the _least_ sexy way to get one — but after a few moments of kicking, he realizes the attack has stopped.

He blinks up, and there’s a man in red holding the narwhal goose in the air, its tusk grasped firmly in the man’s fist.

“Oh. Uhm,” Sokka says eloquently. “Thanks?”

“Don’t mention it,” the man replies. The narwhal goose squawks indignantly, still limply hanging in the air, and the man shakes it in response, rougher than he needs to be.

“You can, uh — ” Sokka starts. “You can set it down now.”

The man gives it another rough shake and hurls the animal a few feet away. It lands in the snow with a thump and skitters away quickly.

Sokka watches the animal run away before he looks back up at the man.

He’s dressed in Fire Nation clothes, and Sokka realizes he’s the man who was talking to Zuko yesterday as he got off the ship. He’s middle aged, and up close Sokka can see his sharp features and angular eyebrows, his greying hair and red eyes.

He proffers a hand to Sokka. Sokka grabs it and the man helps him back to his feet.

“Thanks, again,” Sokka says, dusting snow off his pants. His bad leg twinges a bit from the fall, dull pain crawling up his thigh. “That thing fucking hates me.”

“I saw it around yesterday,” the man says, and his voice is a low baritone. “Nasty creature.”

“Sorry,” Sokka shakes his head. “I’m not sure we’ve met — I’m Sokka.”

“I know,” the man replies. “You’re Katara’s brother, right? The son of chief? Friend of Fire Lord Zuko?”

Sokka frowns a bit at the title — everyone else has dropped _Fire Lord_ by now when addressing Zuko — but moves ahead anyway. “Yes, yes and yes,” he replies.

“I’m Shuo,” the man greets. “I”m not sure if Katara has told you — I’m a healer in the Fire Nation, and she asked me to come here and collaborate with her for a bit at her school, see if we can come up with any creative uses for both waterbending and firebending in conjunction in healing.”

“Oh! Yeah!” Sokka says. He sticks out his hand for the man to shake, and after a moment he grabs it. Shuo’s hands are bare but Sokka can still feel how warm they are through his gloves. “Welcome to the south! I think I saw you talking to Zuko yesterday?”

“Yes,” Shuo says. “A very impressive young man, don’t you think?”

“Eh,” Sokka shrugs. “He’s alright.”

Shuo cracks a wry smile. “I have to be going to see him right now, actually,” he explains.

“Oh, right,” Sokka says. Zuko has invited all the Fire Nation citizens currently residing in the Southern Water Tribe to eat at the embassy today, which is why Sokka trudged over to Katara’s for lunch by himself today. “Nice to meet you, man.”

“You as well,” Shuo says, and they shake hands again before the other man starts walking back in the direction of the city. “I think Katara is around back, by the way!” he throws over his shoulder as he walks away.

“Thanks!” 

Sokka swings the front door open now that the porch is liberated from any hostile predators (anyone who has ever claimed that humans are on the top of the food chain has clearly never met an aggressive gay narwhal goose with something to prove) and steps inside, heading towards the stairs to Katara’s upstairs living area. When he climbs the last step he immediately begins whining, in a loud voice: “Katara, your narwhal goose _assaulted_ me!”

It’s a frequently-voiced complaint inside Katara’s house, so it doesn’t even cause her to turn around from where she’s looking out the window with her arms crossed, a frown on her face. After a moment of no response, Sokka stalks over to her and pokes her on the shoulder.

“Katara.”

She shakes her head and glances over at him, just now taking notice of his presence. “Huh?”

“I was _assaulted!”_

“By what?”

“What do you think?! Your crazy attack goose!” he says. “I don’t understand why you don’t get rid of that thing!”

“Sokka, it’s a wild animal. I can’t control where it nests.”

“Maybe so, but you definitely do not have to provide it with adoption services!”

“They looked sad without any eggs to raise,” Katara replies, waving him off, and returns her gaze out the window. Sokka lets out a _hmph_ and heads over into her kitchen to steal some food from the icebox. 

“What are you glaring at now?” Sokka asks, raising his voice so Katara can hear him in the next room.

“Malina and Maliq’s construction crew is sniffing around Gilak’s land again.” Sokka lets out a groan of frustration and returns to stand next to his sister, taking a large bite out of his hastily-made sandwich.

Gilak is Katara’s neighbor, and his land buttresses the back of Katara’s property, where her training grounds are. If you look out the back windows of Katara’s building you can see Gilak’s medium-sized igloo in the distance, smoke rising out of the top. 

There are, indeed, a few small figures out back. Sokka can make out what looks like the silhouettes of three men, one in Earth Kingdom greens, the other two in blue. One of the waterbenders is holding what looks like a clipboard and the other two are clearing away snow and earth in tandem from a spot on the edge of Gilak’s property, a few yards away from where Katara’s land begins.

“Fuck,” Sokka swears under his breath. “Dad _just_ talked to them.”

“Are you seriously surprised that they’re doing this?” Katara asks. “What did you _think_ was going to happen? They would say, _‘Oh, right, sorry, we’re just gonna leave this potential goldmine untouched and back off without any conflict? Let me just say, from the bottom of my heart, my bad!’”_ Sokka has to hand it to her, Katara’s impression of Malina is actually pretty decent.

Sokka frowns. “No, but — ”

Katara interrupts him. “Oh shit,” she says, eyes widening. “Is that Gilak?”

Sokka squints out the window and sees a figure emerging out of the igloo, and Gilak’s big, burly shoulders are impossible to misidentify even from a distance.

“Shit,” Sokka says. Katara immediately hurries over to the stairs and takes them two at a time, Sokka on her heels, a bit slower with his leg hurting. 

When they get downstairs, Tuyen, a young woman from the Foggy Swamp who became Katara’s assistant teacher two years ago, is emerging from her office, a small room off to the side with windows that also face the backyard. “Did you guys see — ”

“Yes,” Katara answers. “Come on.”

The three of them emerge out the back door and quickly cross the training grounds, heading over to where Gilak is now standing in front of the three members of Malina and Maliq’s construction crew. They can already hear his booming voice before they even get anywhere near the small group.

“Hey!” Sokka yells when they’re a few meters away. “The chief _told you guys_ to stop sniffing around Gilak’s land _yesterday!”_

Gilak and the other men turn around as Katara, Sokka and Tuyen approach. Up close Sokka can now identify the three construction workers — the waterbenders are Noa and Kam, from the north, and the earthbender is Soonjei. 

Noa speaks up first. “Come on, Sokka,” he says. “Malina and Maliq _bought_ this plot of land, fair and square — ”

“And their property line is right there,” Katara interrupts, pointing to the right. Malina and Maliq bought a huge plot of land that sits directly on top of the oil deposits right next to Gilak, and they’ve been attempting to parse out just how big the underground reservoir actually is. They’re sure it extends into Gilak’s property, and they keep offering him a hefty sum of money to sell. Gilak, of course, keeps turning them down. “So I don’t see any reason why you’re _here_ , on Gilak’s land, and it looks like you’re pretty close to ending up on _my_ land, too.”

“Are we?” Kam inquires. “Sorry, we can never keep track of where the property line is — ”

“Here’s a hint,” Tuyen says. “When you hit Gilak’s igloo or Katara’s training grounds you’ve gone too far.”

“Maybe it would help if you put up a fence,” Sokka suggests. 

“Great idea, Sokka,” Soonjei says. “Though, if this one would just give us the mineral rights to _his_ plot, we wouldn’t have to.”

“You boys have been in the Earth Kingdom for too long. Mineral rights are not a fucking thing in the Southern Water Tribe. Now get off my land before I make you get off,” Gilak grits out through clenched teeth. 

“Alright,” Noa says, placating, his hands raised in surrender. “Thank you for the reminder of where our property line stands, Katara,” he finishes with a bow. The other two bow as well, and then they turn their backs, heading back towards the city.

Gilak immediately rounds on Sokka when they’re out of hearing range. “Tell your old man thank you _so much_ for all his help,” Gilak scoffs. “I don’t even know why I bothered to visit him. The only thing he’s done in the past decade is grow weaker and weaker as a leader.”

Sokka feels anger well up inside his gut. “Hey — ”

Gilak cuts him off. “The sooner you realize that destroying our land for the sake of _development_ is not progress, the sooner we can start working on what progress means for _us,”_ he says. _“Real_ progress, on _our_ terms, not the Earth Kingdom’s terms, not the Fire Nation’s terms, and not the Northern Water Tribe’s terms. _Our_ terms.”

Sokka starts again, frustrated. “I never even said I want this stupid factory to be _built!”_

“But you want us to grow as a nation, yes?” Gilak interjects. “And for you that means inviting foreigners to grab up every piece of our land and make it their own.”

“No, it doesn’t! It means allowing people from other nations to come live here!”

“And that has to equal industrialization?” Gilak asks. 

“No — ”

“Then why are you defending the northerners and earthbenders trying to take my property?”

“I’m _not!”_ Sokka explodes. “I _literally_ just told them to leave!”

“You’re still allowing them to buy this land and build whatever they want on top of it.”

“They don’t even have _approval_ to start the factory yet!”

“Then why did those three men have blueprints for a large building in their possession?”

Sokka stops, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Look, obviously I don’t want them to destroy the environment,” he grits out. “And I _don’t_ want this factory to be built, alright? I don’t! But it’s not up to me!”

“You’re the city planner, are you not?”

“It’s _privately owned land now!”_

“Maybe it shouldn’t be,” Gilak says. He turns his gaze to Katara, who has been watching the whole exchange silently, seemingly content to watch Sokka get decimated. “Thank you for your help, Master Katara,” he says, sticking out his hand, which Katara shakes. Gilak doesn’t acknowledge Tuyen outside of a terse nod. “I hope you can convince your brother to see the light.” Then he turns around and heads back to his house.

Sokka, Katara, and Tuyen watch his back retreating until it disappears inside his igloo again. 

“Fine,” Sokka grunts. “Fucking fine! I’ll oppose the stupid factory! I’ll talk to Dad about it!”

Katara turns her gaze to Sokka and levels a sharp glare at him. “Are you _kidding?”_

 _“What?”_ Sokka huffs, annoyed. “I thought you’d be happy!”

“I have been yelling at you to oppose the construction of this refinery,” Katara scowls, “for _months!_ I have made this _exact_ argument — well, minus the _‘not letting earthbenders and firebenders and northerners in’_ thing, ugh — and you finally cave because _someone else_ says it?”

Sokka shrugs. 

Tuyen laughs, watching the two of them. “Older sibling syndrome,” she says. “My big sister does the exact same thing.”

Katara huffs. “Come on, Tuyen,” she says, stomping away, her assistant following after another smirk in Sokka’s direction. “Let’s go set up for the next class.”

Before he follows them, Sokka takes another glance over at Gilak’s property, allowing his eyes to stray over to the area where the proposed oil refinery would sit. It’s empty, a huge tract of land covered in snow, small shrubs poking out of the ground, growing in the cold, unforgiving ground, against all odds. Reaching towards the sun.

Sokka heads back inside. 

Later, when he’s limping back to work — his leg hurts even worse now, another reason to despise The Enemy — he sees Sumi leaving the Fire Nation embassy with two others dressed in red. He waves at them from down the street but doesn’t stop walking to talk, figuring Sumi has a lot of packing to do. When she leaves tomorrow Zuko will move into her vacated house, and she has to haul all her shit down to the docks in the morning. Sokka realizes that he’s going to miss Sumi when she’s gone — he really doesn’t know her that well, but he appreciates her presence in the city nonetheless. She’s calm and friendly, with salt and pepper hair and laugh lines around her eyes. Sokka thinks about offering to help her tomorrow, decides to ask her tonight at the banquet when he sees her, probably roping Zuko into the mix as well, because why not.

She waves back at Sokka before turning back to her conversation with the other two Fire Nation citizens, the couple who work in waste management and whose names Sokka always forgets. The three red figures keep talking as they turn the corner, heading towards Sumi’s house, out of Sokka’s sight.

***

There aren’t many things Sokka doesn’t like about his home. He loves the Southern Water Tribe, would do almost anything to protect it. But there are certain areas that are _definitely_ lacking. 

The food variety, for one — he loves Southern Water Tribe food, no doubt, but he loves the diversity of flavors when travelling. They import some food from the Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom now, but it takes forever to arrive and it’s pretty expensive, so it can’t be considered anything other than a rare treat. 

Another deficiency: the city is small. It’s growing exponentially, obviously, but there’s something about being able to get lost in the crowds of Ba Sing Se or Omashu or Agna Qel-a that he will always crave. Public transportation is another point. He knows they don’t really have a _need_ for a public transportation system at this point with their population size, but god fucking damnit he’s going to keep shoving his monorail pitch down everyone’s goddamn throats until it either becomes a reality or someone forces him onto a floating patch of ice at knifepoint and the entire city population pushes him off to sea so they can finally get some peace and fucking quiet.

Trains are cool. Fucking sue him.

But the Southern Water Tribe’s biggest flaw, by far, is that everyone’s internal clocks seem to run about thirty minutes to an hour behind his own.

“Why do we even have arrival times if everyone is just going to show up forty-five minutes late anyway?” Sokka groans into the table. He and Zuko are sitting in the mostly-empty parlor room in city hall, and Sokka is having the kind of secondhand anxiety known intimately by the pious Time Conscious crowd when the Time Oblivious heathens decide it’s time they have some fun. They’ve been sitting on the same side of one of the small, four-person booths that line the room for the past hour, ever since Sokka finished getting everything set up (Zuko, who Sokka had dragged along, had very helpfully ruined all the place settings, causing Sokka to have a fit — boy could _not_ fold napkins to save his life) and began waiting for everyone to arrive.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Zuko says next to him. “But you sound exactly like my sister right now.”

“How _else_ am I supposed to take that?”

Zuko grabs a fistful of Sokka’s wolftail and hauls his head up so he’s sitting straight. “Buddy,” he says. “It’s fine. Look — Katara and your dad just walked in!”

“Whoop-dee-fucking-do!” Zuko lets go of his hair and Sokka flops over and faceplants back onto the table with a loud _smack_. “Ow.”

“Not everyone is as addicted to their pocket watch as you, Sokka,” Zuko says as Sokka lifts his head, rubbing his now-throbbing forehead. 

“Well they should be,” Sokka grumbles. “Can you just, like, do me a favor? A best friend favor? Next time I volunteer to be in charge of a banquet, or a party, or a soiree, or a gathering, or a celebration, or a — fucking, I don’t know — jamboree. Just. Knock me out cold instead.” Sokka points to his temple and then mimes beating himself in the head with a blunt object. “Okay?”

“Sure,” Zuko agrees. “If it’s any consolation, I think the red and blue table settings look lovely.”

“Thank you.” A beat. “Wait, are you making fun of me?”

“No.”

“You are.”

“I’m not. I genuinely think the shades complement each other very well.”

Sokka squints suspiciously. “Uh huh.”

“It’s like, they’re different colors, but they look nice together, you know?”

“Right.”

“Everyone will _definitely_ notice.”

“I hate you.”

“Are we making fun of Sokka?” Katara asks, sliding into the booth across from the two of them.

“No,” Sokka says, seriously.

“No,” Zuko says, not at all seriously.

“Wait, let me settle in,” Katara says, shifting into a more relaxed position. “I’ve been waiting for the opportunity to tell you about me witnessing Sokka strike out _directly in front of me_ for _months,_ Zuko. _Months.”_

Zuko’s eyes widen. _“What?”_

“Katara, no,” Sokka pleads.

“There we were, during the New Moon Celebration,” Katara begins, and Sokka dives across the table and attempts to slap his hand over his sister’s mouth, which she dodges by leaning far to the left out of reach. “It was during the feast — ”

“Katara!”

“I went up to use the bathroom and when I come back Sokka is talking to — ”

“I swear to Hei Bai’s motherfucking tits — ”

“Sokka, do not _swear_ on Hei Bai’s — that is so disrespectful!”

“Hei Bai abducted me! I can say whatever I want about him!”

“Anyways, he was talking to Atuqtuaq, who had the most bewildered look on his face, so of course I stay a few feet away so I can hear, and — ”

“I’m going to _smash your face_ into a — a _jelly!”_

“And Sokka goes _‘What do you say the two of us_ —’” Which is when Sokka starts screaming so Zuko can’t hear her. 

Katara, who at this point is practically horizontal in her booth, her head sticking out near the floor as she dodges Sokka’s attempts to silence her, starts laughing. “Okay, okay!” she says. “I give!”

Sokka stares suspiciously at her for a few moments, still in attack mode, before he backs off and settles back down in his seat. Katara, still laughing, hits her head on the underside of the table as she sits back up. 

“Ow,” she says, rubbing her head, and turns to Zuko. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you later.”

“You will not.”

“I will.” 

“God, I — ” Sokka sighs wistfully. “Sometimes I really miss when you two hated each other.” He turns to Zuko as well, no doubt to start in on another blistering commentary about being betrayed by his sister and his closest friend, but he finds Zuko looking at him with an odd expression on his face.

“What?” Sokka asks, frowning.

“Oh — ” Zuko stammers, and, inexplicably, blushes. He shakes his head before continuing. “Nothing! I’m just going to — uh — det a grink! I mean, get a drink! Ha ha.” He rises up out of the booth and stands in front of the table. “Do either of you desire — I mean — would either of you like — uhm.” Zuko furrows his brows like he genuinely has no idea what’s coming out of his mouth right now. Sokka can relate. “A beverage?” 

“Uh — ” 

“Great! I’ll be right back!” he says, and then he turns and books it over to the open bar in the corner.

Sokka and Katara stare after him.

“Do you ever talk to Zuko and wonder how he gets himself dressed in the morning?” Katara asks.

That minute seems to be the official arrival time agreed upon by everyone except Sokka, and people start streaming through the big double doors, filling the parlor with chatter. 

He and Katara spend a few minutes people watching, Sokka propping his bad leg, which is still twinging from earlier, up to rest on Zuko’s vacated seat next to him. Though the banquet is officially a function for government employees only, in practice, like most other government functions, the majority of the town has invited themselves anyways. While it can sometimes be annoying to plan any kind of event when you don’t know how many extra people are just going to show up uninvited, Sokka really does love it when people do this, despite how much he may grumble. It makes everyone feel connected, like they’re still the small village they used to be where everyone knows everyone else. Looking around at parties, sometimes, Sokka is still shocked when he realizes there are people who live here who he _doesn’t_ know. 

“Come on,” Katara says, bringing him out of his reverie. “Looks like we have to go save Dad.”

Sokka searches around the room until his eyes land on Hakoda and he sees who he’s talking to. He swears, standing up with Katara. She waits for him as he stretches his leg a bit, and then they make their way across the room.

Hakoda is talking with a small group of people — Sokka recognizes Lirin, one of the city guards, along with Bato and a few of the other men who fought with Hakoda in the war. And, of course, Malina and Maliq.

The brother and sister from the north are clearly commanding the conversation. Malina is right next to Hakoda, who has a neutral look on his face as she talks away, her big blue eyes whirling around to stare at everyone individually in the circle for a good few moments before moving on to the next person.

“Sokka!” she says when he and Katara approach. “I’m glad you joined us! I was just telling your father and everyone about one of the government reform ideas I had! I would love to hear your thoughts about it — you’re such a logical thinker.”

“Oh, well,” Sokka says, clearly not expecting praise coming from this particular person. “Sure. Hit me.”

“It’s an idea for changing the electoral system in the south,” she explains. “For the Head Chieftain position. Since all the villages in the south have their own local chieftains, who really exercise the most authority over their individual territories, the Head Chieftain position really doesn’t do much more right now than act as a representative for the amalgamation of the Southern Water Tribe on a global setting — don’t you think so? So if we changed the electoral process it could give the Head Chieftain more authority, so we would have a more cohesive, unified tribe. And to elect the Head Chieftain we could set up this sort of — council, where each village gets a certain number of votes based on their population size. Each village votes for who they want to be Head Chieftain, and the popular vote winner in each village receives that village’s electoral votes. That way all the villages have a more equal say in the election, instead of just the most populous city!” She smiles when she finishes. 

Sokka stares.

“Well?” she asks, when he doesn’t say anything after a moment. “What do you think?”

What is the most polite way to say _'t_ _hat sounds really, really fucking stupid’_? “That’s an — interesting idea, but I think it could be too easily exploited — it could be manipulated to prop up less popular candidates even if someone else receives more total votes — ”

“No, no, you’re missing the point,” she says. “It would give the smaller villages a bigger say in the election.”

“Right,” Sokka says, frowning. “That’s the problem. Voting power shouldn’t be determined by geography — someone in Chief Ilannaq’s village, for example, would have a more influential vote than mine would. So it’s not promoting equality, it’s hindering it.”

“But if we let only the cities with the biggest population have all the power — meaning here — then the other villages will remain largely independent.”

“I — ” Sokka tries not to show how flabbergasted he is, but what the fuck. “Yes! They will! The local chiefs can exercise control over their villages because they should be doing that! Consolidating all the power in the tribe to one figure isn’t — that’s not — that’s not good for those other tribes because they all have their own unique sets of problems. We shouldn’t be telling them what to do — and — why _shouldn’t_ the city with the biggest population have the most voting power? Because, you know,” he flaps his hand in the air, _“we have the biggest population.”_

“Malina,” Hakoda cuts in, and it looks like he’s holding back a smile. “It’s an... interesting idea. But I agree, I don’t think it’d be very suited to working with our government structure and the independence of the local chiefdoms. And, like Sokka said, I think it would actually do more to exacerbate inequality in the tribe and cause us more problems.”

Malina looks like she wants to argue for her idea more, but, after a second, she shrugs and takes a sip of her drink. “I still think it’d be good for you to try to amass more executive power,” she continues. “If the Southern Water Tribe wants to be a player on the world stage, you need to have a stronger head of state.”

“We already _are_ operating on the world stage,” Katara says. 

“Right, but you could have _more_ influence — you could be _defining_ the global political conversation, instead of just following along with the Northern Water Tribe!” Maliq cuts in. “And that means consolidating a more centralized power — developing some kind of police force, for example, like we have in the North, could — ”

“No,” Sokka says. 

_“Fuck_ no,” Katara says. 

“Why not?” Malina adds. “Lirin here is already a capable city guard — why not establish a police department for the city? The city is growing, there will need to be some kind of peacekeeping force eventually at this growth rate.”

“There are other systems dedicated to public safety that keep peace better than police,” Katara says. 

“Maybe we do need some kind of force, though,” Lirin says. A tall woman in her early thirties, she moved to the city after the war ended from one of the smaller villages on the other side of the continent. She’s been on the city guard ever since, and she often works as Hakoda’s bodyguard when he travels abroad. “To help us remain who we are.” She looks pointedly at Malina and Maliq. “And to keep… _others_ from coming here.” Then she turns on her heel and walks off.

The group stands in uncomfortable silence for a moment.

“Well,” Bato says, faux-jovially. “I for one can’t wait for dinner!”

“Me too!” Maliq adds quickly. “Malina is a bit homesick for Northern Water Tribe cuisine — it is just a little different down here, you know? But I _love_ the native food here!”

“Right,” Katara says. “Down here we just call it _food.”_

“Wow, I feel like I could drink an entire ostrich-horse!” Sokka laughs nervously. “I mean — uh. Where is Zuko with my drink? I’m gonna go — ” he says, waving his hand in the general direction of the bar, taking a few tentative steps that way.

“Sokka!” he hears Katara hiss as he makes his getaway.

“Can’t hear you bye!” he calls back, and scurries off.

He takes a quick bathroom break before he starts his search for Zuko — seriously, where is he? Did he get in a fistfight with someone in the alley next to the dumpster? Did he decide to infiltrate a maximum security fortress on nothing more than a whim with all the determination of an eunich trying to fuck so hard that their balls grow back? Did he trip and fall into a ditch and is about to get eaten alive by rabbit crabs? All seem equally likely. 

It turns out to be the stupidest option: Zuko is stuck behind the bar because everyone thought he was the drinks guy and kept asking him to make them cocktails and he was too awkward to say no.

Sokka watches him from a few feet away, smirking as he takes in the scene. There’s a big crowd of people in front of the open bar — well, it used to be an open bar, but now it is being tended very clumsily by the former Fire Lord. One little old lady appears to be very patiently explaining how to make a complicated mixed drink to Zuko’s bewildered face, and after a few very enjoyable moments Sokka decides to take pity on him.

He sidles right up next to Zuko, behind the bar.

“Having fun?” Sokka asks.

Zuko turns a flustered face in his direction. _“They won’t let me leave,"_ Zuko says. “Help me.”

Sokka laughs and takes the glass Zuko is currently clutching in his hands. “I got you, buddy,” he says, and turns out to the crowd in front of him. “Alright, who wants mulled wine and who wants mulled wine? Because that’s all you’re getting!”

It takes another ten minutes to serve everyone — Sokka frequently whines to Zuko that they could just _leave,_ but Zuko refuses because he doesn’t want everyone to hate him.

“I don’t think people are going to hate you if you just inform them that you aren’t the bartender,” Sokka says when they’re alone, wiping down a few spills from the countertop.

“Well — I just — ” Zuko sighs. “Look, it all happened so fast.”

“Look, I’ll be you. Someone asks _‘are you the bartender?’_ and you say _‘no, I’m Zuko.’_ It’s very easy.”

“Okay.”

“Now you go. _‘Are you the bartender?’_ And you say…”

“No, I’m Sokka,” Zuko says.

“No, _I’m_ Sokka.”

“You just said you were Zuko.”

“I was being you! Now you be you!”

“I thought we were doing a role switch thing!”

“Well you thought wrong!” Sokka exclaims. Just then Katara appears in front of the bar, looking irritated. 

“Thanks for ditching me,” she huffs. “You missed the part where Malina suggested that we build a _palace.”_

“A palace?” Sokka hums, finally pouring a drink for himself. He gets out two glasses for Zuko and Katara as well, so no one can ever say he’s not an extremely generous friend and brother. “Okay, I could go for a palace.”

“Sokka.”

“I’m just saying. The Fire Nation palace was pretty sick. I wouldn’t mind having one.”

“You’re hilarious,” Katara says. “Have you guys seen Sumi? Dad wanted to give her a little going away speech before dinner, but we haven’t seen her.”

“I haven’t,” Sokka says.

“Neither have I,” Zuko says, frowning. “Let’s go look around.”

The three of them split up, covering the wide room quickly, searching for the retiring Fire Nation ambassador in the crowd. When five minutes pass and they haven’t been able to find her, they meet back up again at the parlor’s front doors.

“Any luck?” Sokka asks.

“No,” Katara replies, and Zuko shakes his head.

Sokka frowns. “Maybe she got busy packing and lost track of time,” Sokka says. “She’s probably still at her house — let’s just pop over real quick.”

“Good idea,” Katara says. “I’ll go look in the ladies’ bathroom, you guys go to her house.”

“Tell Dad we’ll be back in a minute,” Sokka says. Katara nods, and she heads in the direction of the bathrooms, while Sokka and Zuko grab their parkas from the coat rack, slip them back on, and step outside.

“It’s weird that she’s late,” Zuko says, pulling his hood up to cover his head. It’s started snowing since they’ve been inside. “She’s usually on time for everything.”

“Maybe she just had a lot of shit to pack,” Sokka shrugs. “Since she’s been here for almost a decade. Ooooh, maybe she needs _help_ packing!”

“Oh god,” Zuko groans. 

“You know I love packing.”

“Yes, I know, Sokka.”

“I’m so good at it. It’s, like, the greatest puzzle in the world — remember when you wanted to bring those forty books you bought in Ba Sing Se back to the Fire Nation but you couldn’t fit them all in your bag? And then I organized them and _made_ them all fit because I’m a _genius?”_

“Sure. I mean, it was five books, but. Sure.” Zuko seems to notice Sokka isn’t moving too quickly and slows his pace to match. “Is your leg still hurting?”

“A bit, yeah,” Sokka replies.

The snow is falling slowly through the air as they make their way down the street to Sumi’s house. The quarters set aside for the Fire Nation ambassador are only a block away from city hall and the Fire Nation embassy, so it should only take a minute to walk there. The street is empty except for the two of them. It’s dark out now, and the street lamps are all lit, illuminating the snow swirling in the air with an ethereal glow that somehow reminds Sokka of the Spirit World. 

The wind picks up for a moment and causes the snow to whirl around in big swooshes — Sokka looks to Zuko on his left and sees Zuko scrunch up his face as the wind bites his cheeks. He has snowflakes dusting the dark hair peeking out of his hood, and his nose is already turning pink. He crosses his arms around his middle and shivers a bit.

Sokka nudges him, smiling. “What happened to the cold not being a problem for you, huh?”

“Shut up.” Zuko rolls his eyes, his lips quirking. 

They cross over to the next block, where Sumi’s house is. Zuko blows out a little breath of fire to generate some warmth, and the light dances across his face for a brief moment, illuminating his pale skin, the redness of his scar. The shadows grow again as the fire fades into the air and disappears, and Sokka finds himself wishing it would come back.

As they near Sumi’s house, they notice the street lamp close by has been snuffed out, an empty space in the oil lamp where the flame should be. Zuko points his finger up at the wick and shoots a small burst of fire. Once the two of them are bathed in light on the sidewalk again, they turn around to face Sumi’s house.

The front door is wide open, and Sumi isn’t inside. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in my head, the narwhal goose basically just looks like a canadian goose but with a giant narwhal tusk on its head. aka NIGHTMARE FUEL


	3. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aang sits up suddenly, his eyes going wide. “Guys! Suki has a new girlfriend and she,” Aang says, “is _cute.”_
> 
> Katara _oohs,_ instantly intrigued. “What’s her name?” she asks. “She didn’t tell me in her last letter!”
> 
> “Keiko,” Aang replies. “Apparently it’s new. She’s in the Kyoshi Warriors, the left flank in the back when they do that one triangle formation. She seems cool.”
> 
> “That’s good,” Zuko says. “Better than the last girl Suki went out with?”
> 
> “God, let’s hope,” Katara says. “She was a mess.”
> 
> “And the guy before that — remember him?” Zuko asks.
> 
> “Spirits,” Aang sighs, shaking his head.
> 
> “Complete disaster,” Katara agrees.
> 
> “Hey,” Sokka frowns, furrowing his brows. “The guy before the last girl was _me!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AS ALWAYS thank you roz for reading my shit over AND for drawing moma-worthy artwork AND for being an all around legend

When Sokka was nineteen, he ran into Aunt Wu again. That was also the night he spent four hours hiding behind a curtain, but that was completely unrelated.

It was during the Earth Kingdom New Year celebrations in Ba Sing Se. He had been minding his own business, doing his best to blend in with the drapery, when someone suddenly whipped back the curtain and squeezed themselves in right next to him. Sokka shrieked.

“Shut up,” Mai said. 

“This is _my_ hiding place,” Sokka hissed. “Go find your own!”

“All the other curtains have Dai Li agents hiding behind them,” Mai hissed back. 

“That’s — ” Sokka frowned. “Okay, that’s concerning. Wait, why are you hiding?”

Mai cracked a tiny opening between the drapery and the wall and peeked out, searching for someone. “Because my girlfriend is a menace. Why are _you_ hiding?”

“I’m — uh,” Sokka stuttered. “I’m really scared of — ” he furrowed his brows, trying to think of a good excuse. “Rice pudding.”

Mai shot him a look. “You’re scared of rice pudding.”

“Yep,” Sokka nodded. “I’m very allergic.”

“So you’re hiding behind a curtain.”

“Yes.”

Mai rolled her eyes but didn’t press him further. 

“What is Ty Lee d—” Sokka began, and then the curtain whipped open on his other side.

“Room for two more?” a voice asked, and then Sokka suddenly had a noseful of bear fur as Bosco and King Kuei stuffed themselves behind the curtain next to Sokka and Mai.

“There is — ” Sokka sneezed. “There is _very obviously not_ room for two more!”

“Hello, friends!” King Kuei said, peeking around Bosco’s giant body so he could see Sokka and Mai. “Are you enjoying the party?”

“No,” Mai said, darkly. “Who invited the fortuneteller?”

Sokka immediately felt like his stomach had fallen out of his ass. “The _what?”_

“Oh, that was me!” King Kuei replied brightly. “I met her on my travels with Bosco! She lives in this village called Makapu — ”

“Oh no,” Sokka said.

“ — and when I met her she gave me a palm reading that was _eye-opening_ — ”

“Oh _no.”_

“ — and I simply _had_ to invite her to see Ba Sing Se — this is the first year she’s been able to join us for the New Year festivities!”

Sokka buried his face into his hands and tried his very best not to scream. 

Mai and King Kuei carried on like Sokka wasn’t having a complete meltdown in between them. “Do you not find her enjoyable?”

“No,” Mai said. “My girlfriend keeps on trying to get her to cleanse my aura.”

Sokka snickered and dropped his hands from his face. “So that’s why you’re hiding?”

“Yes.”

“I think an aura cleanse would do you good!” King Kuei said. “She can really work wonders — ever since she recommended adding crystal decorations to my bedroom, the bagua in my living quarters has been so much more balanced.” Sokka briefly weighed the pros and cons of throttling the Earth King before he remembered that he’d probably end up having to fight the bear as well. 

“I happen to like my grey aura, thank you very much,” Mai sniffed.

Bosco shifted next to Sokka and he got another noseful of bear fur; he sneezed again. “Look, I think half of us are going to have to find different hiding spots,” he said. “Wait, King Kuei — why are _you_ hiding?”

“Oh, my great-aunt was trying to introduce me to this woman she wants to marry me off to,” he said, waving his hand. “Again. It’s getting annoying at this point. What about you, Sokka?”

“I’m — don’t worry about it.”

“Well, since King Kuei and I both have legitimate reasons for hiding, I nominate you to be the one to find another hiding spot,” Mai said.

“I second that,” King Kuei said.

“I was here _first!”_ Sokka exclaimed. 

“Then plead your case,” Mai said.

“Fine!” Sokka said. “I made out with someone at a bar in the lower ring last night and he’s _here!_ As a _waiter!”_

Mai barked a laugh, and on his other side King Kuei furrowed his brows. “Why do you have to hide from him?”

 _“Because_ it — ” Sokka huffed indignantly. “Because it wasn’t very good!”

“Was it your first time kissing a guy?” Mai asked, _far_ too gleefully. 

“I — that’s none of your business!”

“Seems like you really aren’t too invested in keeping your hiding spot.”

“You’re kidding, right? My reason is _way_ more dire than yours!” Sokka sneezed again. “Why don’t we kick out, I don’t know, the _giant_ _bear?”_

“Hey,” King Kuei warned. “Bosco didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Why does he need to be here? He’s a bear!”

“I didn’t want him to think I abandoned him.”

“Guess that settles it,” Mai said, and promptly shoved Sokka out from behind the curtain. 

Sokka stumbled a bit before whipping back around and glaring at the Mai-shaped lump in the curtain. “Ty Lee!” he screeched.

“No!” he heard Mai hiss.

“Mai is right here behind the curtain and she is just _dying_ for her disgusting aura to be cleansed!” Sokka yelled. Then he remembered that he was trying to _not_ attract attention to himself and panicked, spinning around in a circle to scan the room for potential hiding spots before he saw Zuko, Suki, Toph, and Ty Lee across the room. He made a beeline to their little group and immediately flung himself under the table around which they were congregating. 

“Sokka?” he heard Suki’s voice call, a little muffled from the tablecloth separating them. “You alright?”

Sokka popped his head out from under the table. “Great!” he smiled brightly. “Ty Lee, Mai is over behind that curtain,” he said, pointing. 

Ty Lee immediately flounced off in the direction of the curtain, and Sokka watched in satisfaction as she successfully dragged Mai out from behind it. Mai shot a glare in Sokka’s direction, and in reply he grinned back at her and gave her a thumbs up.

Someone kicked Sokka’s shoulder and he yelped. Sokka glared up at Toph. “You _know_ I bruise like a moon peach, Toph!”

“What are you doing under the table, moron?” she asked.

“I am, uh — ” Sokka started, scanning his brain for a viable excuse. “Admiring Zuko’s new shoes!” He scooched his body forward a little so his torso was out from under the table and poked the shoes in question. “They look great, buddy!”

Zuko raised his eyebrow down at Sokka. “These are three years old.”

“Really? Well, you can barely tell! They’re very — slimming.”

“My shoes are slimming?”

“Yeah! Your ankles look, like, _so_ tiny. How do you even stand up on those twigs?” He poked Zuko’s right ankle.

“I — thank you?”

“You’re welcome!” Sokka smiled brightly up at him. Zuko stared back down at him, equal parts bemused and fond. 

“Sokka?” a voice off to the right said, and Sokka blanched.

Slowly, very slowly, he turned his head until Zhao was in sight.

It was really unfortunate that his previous night’s makeout partner shared a name with one of the worst people to ever walk the face of the earth, because holy _fuck_ he was gorgeous. He even looked good in the poofy hat that all the waitstaff had to wear, a feat that Sokka thought impossible up until this very moment. But he _was_ gorgeous, with his shiny black hair and strong jawline and broad shoulders, and Sokka silently congratulated himself on his _amazing_ taste. Then he had a sudden war flashback and remembered that, upon learning, mid-makeout, that the man’s name was _Zhao_ , Sokka had turned the exact same shade of green as the surrounding decor, spilled his glass of wine all over his shirt, and immediately ran out the nearest exit. 

Sokka, frozen on the floor, did what he always did when encountering an extremely awkward romantic situation: he cranked his charm dial up to eleven, supremely overcompensated, and ended up making the whole thing way more awkward than it needed to be. 

He propped up his bent elbow on the floor and rested his chin on his palm. Then he put his other hand on his hip because he didn’t know what else to do with it. “Oh!” he said, as if he hadn’t been spending the entire evening avoiding this exact situation. “Heyyyyyyyy… you.”

Standing awkwardly in between Suki and Zuko, holding a tray of crab puffs, Zhao cleared his throat. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Well…” Sokka threw up some spirit fingers and wiggled them around his face for emphasis. “Here I am!”

Zhao shuffled a bit, shifting his weight between his feet. Suki had clapped a hand over her mouth to hide her grin — god, the amount of times Suki claimed it was her unalienable right as the ex-girlfriend to make fun of any and all new romantic prospects was _obscene_ — and Toph looked _far_ too amused. Zuko’s eyes darted back and forth between Sokka and the newcomer, a confused look on his face.

Zhao started, “Look, could we — ”

“I would love to but Fire Lord Zuko here was just saying how he — needed to go to the whiz palace! And asked me to go with him!” Sokka scrambled up off the floor quickly and grabbed Zuko’s arm, pulling him to his side. “You know us guys, always gotta go to the bathroom in groups — am I right? Ha ha,” he said, and began dragging Zuko in the direction of the bathrooms, leaving Zhao with Suki and Toph.

“Sokka — ” Zuko started.

Sokka shushed him. “I’ll explain once we get a safe distance away from the target!”

“The _t—”_ Sokka clapped his hand over Zuko’s mouth, marching them both out of the room.

When they reached the safety of the hallway leading to the bathrooms, Sokka let go of Zuko, who turned to face him. _“What_ was that?” Zuko asked. 

“I — ” Sokka sighed, and felt his cheeks go warm. “I made out with him last night, alright?”

Zuko’s eyes went wide. “You — ”

“Yes!” Sokka hissed. “But then I found out his name is _Zhao,_ and making out with someone who has the same name as the guy responsible for your ex-girlfriend turning into the moon is, like, the exact opposite of a turn on!”

Zuko stared at him, bewildered. “So what did you do?”

“What do you think I did? I ran the fuck away!”

Zuko glanced back to the door that led into the ballroom, where Zhao still was, before turning his gaze back to Sokka. He bit his lip.

“So,” Zuko began. “You’re — ”

“A friend of Kyoshi? Yes,” Sokka said dryly. He lifted his palms up and mimed the arc of a rainbow above his head. “Congratulations, it’s a bi!”

“Oh!” Zuko said, and then _he_ blushed. “I mean, uh — ” he raised both of his arms, as if he was going to hug Sokka, but then he stopped, staring at his own hands as if noticing them for the first time. Then he dropped one back to his side and settled for patting Sokka awkwardly on the shoulder. “That’s — that’s great, buddy.”

He continued patting Sokka’s shoulder. “Your hand feels like a wet lizard,” Sokka said, knocking Zuko’s hand away. “You don’t have to be weird.”

“I’m not being weird.”

“You are!”

“I’m not!” 

“Look, if — ”

“Sokka!” Zuko grabbed him by both of his shoulders this time, shaking him a bit. “I think it’s great!” he said, making _way_ too much direct eye contact. “You’re — you’re my best friend, alright? You’re good. You’re — ” He dropped both of his hands, then, swinging them awkwardly at his sides. “You’re great.”

“Oh. Uhm.” Sokka coughed. His hands were clammy and he vaguely felt like he was going to throw up. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” Zuko replied, eyes dropping to the floor.

“Can you just go to the bathroom already?” Sokka asked.

“Wha — I don’t have to go to the bathroom!”

Sokka shoved him in the direction of the men’s room anyway. “Just — go empty the royal bladder, okay!” he commanded, pushing Zuko until he hit the bathroom door.

“Okay! Jeez!” Zuko huffed, and went inside the bathroom, the door swinging shut behind him.

“And wash your wet lizard hands!” Sokka called after him, before he sighed and leaned against the wall.

“You’re a weasel snake, aren’t you?” a voice asked behind him; Sokka jumped and whirled around to face Aunt Wu.

 _“Excuse_ me?” he asked. “I’m a boy! I mean, I’m a man! A human man!”

“Your astrology sign,” Aunt Wu explained. “Were you born in the year of the weasel snake?”

“What? No!”

“How old are you?”

“Sixte— wait, nineteen,” he answered, stumbling over his answer as the unbearably and inescapably crushing weight of the passage of time suddenly bonked him on the head.

“So you _are_ a weasel snake!”

Sokka sputtered indignantly. “No, I am not a weasel snake, because we don’t have astrology signs in the Water Tribe because we aren’t _stupid!”_

“Weasel snakes represent wisdom in the Earth Kingdom,” Aunt Wu said. “They are great thinkers, smart and wise — great at communication, but easily stressed. They hate to fail.”

Sokka rolled his eyes. “You just described, like — 80% of everyone on earth!”

Aunt Wu continued on. “Weasel snake strengths: creative, intelligent, innovative, logical, wise, devoted. Weaknesses: stubborn, possessive, perfectionist, procrastinator, pessimist. Weasel snake likes: food, poetry, romance, high quality clothes, working with hands. Dislikes: sudden changes, complications, showing vulnerability, insecurity of any kind.”

“Well.” Sokka frowned. “Look, it’s really unfortunate how well that may describe certain people who may have been born nineteen years ago — but! That doesn’t mean the,” he waved his hands around in a vague gesture that seemed to encompass the entire universe, _“position of the fucking planets_ or — whatever! — _determined_ my personality when I was born!”

“The weasel snake is said to have a great love match with the dragon,” Aunt Wu continued on, ignoring him. “The dragon is the year before the weasel snake in the zodiac cycle — know any dragons?”

“I — ” Sokka flushed. “No!”

“Hmm,” Aunt Wu hummed, considering him. “Interesting.”

“Can — ugh,” Sokka groaned. “Can this be over, please?”

“Alright,” Aunt Wu shrugged, then continued on to the ladies’ bathroom. She opened the door and paused, looking back at Sokka. “Let me give you one more piece of advice, young man.”

Sokka groaned again and flapped his hand impatiently. “Fine.”

“The weasel snake is often too focused on everything around them,” she said. “And they may miss what’s right in front of them, if they aren’t careful.”

She shot Sokka one last significant look before letting the door swing shut behind her.

***

They still haven’t found Sumi after twenty-four hours of searching.

Sokka had to call it quits, earlier that afternoon — his leg is still acting up, and all the walking around didn’t help. He went to their temporary headquarters in the library while the search party continued on.

With thirty minutes away from the designated time everyone is supposed to meet up again, Sokka sits at a table in the reading room next to his grandmother, scribbling in a notebook as he reviews the facts again.

The facts are: Sumi attended lunch at the Fire Nation Embassy the previous day with Zuko and the rest of the Fire Nation citizens. She seemed completely normal and in good spirits during the meal, nothing out of the ordinary. Then she walked home with the couple that work in waste management, Jia and Li, which is when Sokka saw her on his way back to work. Jia and Li had bid her goodbye at her door before they continued on to their own apartment down the street, grabbed Li’s parka that he had forgotten that morning, and then headed back to work. Several people on the street at that time corroborated their movements — Jia and Li had not gone inside Sumi’s home. After that, her whereabouts are unaccounted for.

Sokka sighs, scrubbing his hand over his face.

“Did anyone ever go missing when you were younger?” Sokka asks Gran Gran, who is sitting next to him.

Gran Gran sets down the scroll she was writing on and taps her chin, thinking. She wasn’t able to help search either — a few years ago her hip gave out and she isn’t as mobile as she used to be. She’s holding down their temporary search party headquarters in the library and helping coordinate the different search teams.

“A few times,” she says. “Usually when people would go out hunting — someone would get separated, or lost in a blizzard.”

“Did you find them?”

“Sometimes,” Gran Gran nods. “If the weather allowed us to search. It really depended on the time of year, and the location they got lost. There was one young man who got separated from the hunting party during winter; we thought he got all turned around in the snow. We didn’t find his body until a few months later, in spring, when some of the snow thawed. He was completely frozen — hadn’t decomposed at all.” She purses her lips. “Too bad it’s not winter now — I don’t want to see any decaying cadavers.”

Sokka frowns. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a bit morbid, Gran?”

She chuckles. “You would not be the first.”

“So when people went missing — how did you search for them?”

“What we’re doing right now, basically,” she says. “Coordinated search parties, if the weather allowed for it. Multiple teams for the first forty-eight hours, then we’d slow down a bit if they still hadn’t been found by that point.”

“Anything you think we need to be doing right now that we aren’t?”

Gran Gran hums. “I think the search effort is operating smoothly — I might double up on interviews, though. Someone had to have seen her leave her house. Has she gone anywhere recently? Aren’t there a few firebenders in Chief Arnaaluk’s village?”

Sokka jots down a few notes. “Good idea — I’ll ask and see. I think Chief Hanta has one as well.”

Gran Gran nods. “I would bet she’s been to see some of them in the past few weeks — saying her goodbyes before she heads back to the Fire Nation.”

“Right,” Sokka agrees. “Wasn’t there a ship going to Arnaaluk’s a few weeks ago?”

“I believe so.”

Sokka scribbles down a few more lines, and when he finishes he sticks the end of his brush into his mouth and chews on it, thinking as he reads over his notes. “Thanks, Gran,” he says.

“I’m happy to help,” Gran Gran says. She massages the fingers in her writing hand for a bit before sighing. “She was a nice woman — I hope she’s okay.”

She doesn’t pick up her brush again, continues massaging her fingers. Her arthritis must be flaring up again. She looks old. She _is_ old, Sokka realizes. 

“Me too,” he says. “I’m gonna go stretch my leg for a bit, I’ll be right back.”

He wanders out of the reading room and into the lobby. He stops in the middle of the room and lifts his bad leg off the floor, rotating his ankle. It doesn’t do much — nothing does, really, not even Katara’s healing abilities, a fact which frustrates Sokka to no end. What good is having a sister with magical powers if she can’t magically heal every single problem he’s ever had in his entire life?

 _Just kidding,_ he thinks, suddenly. If Katara ever found out that thought had crossed his mind even jokingly she’d sic her attack goose on him. 

The front doors to the library open, then, letting in a big swoosh of the cool night air. Zuko slips inside, a small flame cupped in his hands, and shuts the door behind him.

“Hey,” Sokka greets. 

“Hey,” Zuko says. He looks tired, a frown on his face.

“I’m guessing by the happy look on your face that you found her and she’s completely fine and she was actually just planning a surprise party for all of us and she’s outside with cake right now?” Sokka smiles hopefully.

Zuko shoots him a small, sad smile. “No dice, unfortunately.” 

Sokka sighs. “Where’s Katara?”

“We were searching with Shuo, for a bit — have you met him?”

“The healer firebender? Yeah, I met him at Katara’s yesterday.”

“Our group was me, Katara, Tuyen and Shuo when we started out — Katara and Shuo split off to go search near the water.”

“How could Shuo help with that?”

“He specializes in temperature control — he’s a good swimmer, and he can heat the water around him so he doesn’t freeze.”

“Huh. Where’s Tuyen?”

“I told her to go home. She’s exhausted,” Zuko says. “Apparently her and Sumi were pretty close.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. She was telling me about it. I guess Tuyen felt like an outsider when she first came here, since she’s from the Foggy Swamp — like she couldn’t fit in even though she’s a waterbender. I guess her and Sumi bonded over being from different cultures.”

“Shit,” Sokka says. “She must be a wreck. I know I am.”

Zuko grabs his arm with the hand not holding the flame and squeezes, gently. “You look like you’re holding up alright.”

“I am — I just.” Sokka sighs. “This fucking sucks.”

Zuko shoots him another sad smile. “It does.”

“How are _you?”_

Zuko drops his hand. “I’m — ” he waves his hand around vaguely. “I don’t know.” He sighs. “This _really_ fucking sucks.”

Zuko has never been good at hiding his emotions. Sokka can tell he’s upset — it’s in the frown on his lips, the pinch between his brows. The flame still cupped in his hand is the only source of light in the library lobby besides the oil lamp behind the main desk, and it casts shadows over his face, emphasizing the sharp lines of his face, the rough skin of his scar.

“I wish I could say _‘we’re definitely going to find her,’_ but,” Sokka says. “I’ve never been much of an optimist.”

“Me neither,” Zuko laughs, softly. “Where are we gonna find one of those?”

Just then, the front double doors blow open, slamming against the wall with a loud _bang._

“Hey guys,” Aang says, standing in the doorway. “What’d I miss?”

***

“Okay,” Hakoda says, walking up to the front of the room. “Everyone here? Who are we missing?”

“Tuyen went home,” Katara says from her seat on the floor. “Other than that, all the search teams are back.”

“And I’m here!” Aang chimes in. Momo, sitting atop Sokka’s head, chirps. “And Momo!”

“Alright, then.” Hakoda grabs a piece of charcoal and writes TEAM 1 on the large piece of parchment they taped to the wall. “Team one — Lirin, Siluk, Tuktu, Yuka. Report, please?”

Lirin stands up from her position on the floor; the rest of her group remain seated next to her, cross-legged. “We conducted interviews in the northwest quadrant of the city and talked to everyone who answered their door. No new information except Tikaani said she saw Ambassador Sumi at the fish market two nights ago.”

Hakoda scribbles down the information on the parchment. “Was she alone?”

“Yes,” Lirin confirms.

Someone raises their hand on the other side of the room. “She bought from me, Chief Hakoda,” the voice says — Sokka leans to the side so he can see who’s talking, causing Momo to fall off his head and into Zuko’s lap next to him with an indignant trill. “I was going to report this with my group — I can do it now, if you like.” Sokka finally identifies Petuwaq as the speaker, a man around Hakoda’s age who moved down here from the Northern Tribe a few years ago. 

“Go ahead, Petuwaq,” Hakoda says as he continues writing.

“She came by around eight o’clock in the evening, which I remember because I was about to close up shop, and I had just looked at my watch,” Petuwaq says, and he wiggles his pocket watch around in the air for emphasis. Sokka’s eye twitches — clearly, all of his memos about the virtues of using a 24-hour clock have been for _naught_ — and he catches Zuko smirking at him in his peripheral vision, which he steadfastly ignores. “She seemed completely normal — she bought salmon, we chatted for a minute, then she went on her way. The whole interaction was only about two minutes total.”

“We have confirmation of that timeframe from Tikaani as well,” Lirin adds in.

“What did you talk about?” Hakoda asks.

“I asked her if she was excited to be returning to the Fire Nation. She said she was looking forward to seeing her family again, but she would miss the job, and everyone here. That was it.”

“And did she indicate that she was returning home after your interaction?” Hakoda continues.

“No, but that’s what I assumed,” Petuwaq says. “She didn’t say anything, though — I assumed she was buying her dinner.”

Hakoda writes this down as well. “And she only bought one fish, yes?”

“No,” Petuwaq says. “She bought two.”

“Hmm,” Hakoda hums. “Interesting.”

“I’m sorry,” someone says behind Sokka, and he doesn’t even have to look to know who it is. “But _how_ is that interesting? Why are we talking about how many fish she bought right now?” Maliq asks, his voice rising.

“We’re establishing a timeline, Maliq,” Hakoda says, with far more patience than Sokka would be able to muster.

“If we were in the Northern Water Tribe or the Earth Kingdom, whoever did this would have already been caught by the police!”

“We don’t even know if there’s someone _to_ catch!” Katara says loudly, her torso twisted around so she can glare at Maliq.

“Please,” he scoffs. “What, we think she just disappeared into thin air? Of course someone took her!”

Ashuna, sitting in one of the chairs next to Gran Gran, sits up straight. “She could have been influenced by the Ijirait!” she says. “They used to carry people off all the time when we were younger — remember, Kanna?”

“Ashuna, we don’t have any proof yet,” Hakoda says, raising his hands in a calming gesture. “We need to get all the facts down, first, before we can even think about any spirits being involved.”

“I don’t even understand why we’re wasting our time with this when we all _know_ who did it!” Maliq says.

Hakoda frowns. “And who might that be?”

“Gilak, of course!” 

The room bursts into a flurry of sounds all at once — everyone begins murmuring to the person sitting next to them, and a few people shout out _“What?”_ in varying degrees of disbelief. 

“Hang on,” Aang says, standing up. “Everyone, calm down,” he says, trying to quiet the room. When everyone settles down, Aang looks over at Maliq. “That’s a pretty big accusation to make, given the little evidence that we have.”

“I agree,” Hakoda says. “Care to explain your reasoning, Maliq?”

“Well, for one, he’s not even here, helping us look!” Maliq exclaims, gesturing around him to encompass the rest of the search party. “Isn’t it interesting how him and his little band of nationalists are the only group of able-bodied people that _aren’t_ contributing to the search?”

“That doesn’t mean he’s guilty of _kidnapping someone!”_ Katara says.

“He hates _every single outsider here,”_ Maliq continues. “Who has a bigger motive to take out a Fire Nation ambassador than someone who thinks only southerners should reside in the south?”

“That doesn’t make any sense, considering she was about to _leave,”_ Sokka says. “Why would he wait until the _very last day_ she occupied the ambassadorship to — I don’t know — _murder her,_ or whatever it is you’re insinuating?”

“How should I know?” Maliq scoffs. “It’s not like this man is thinking logically! Maybe it took this long for him to — snap!”

“Okay, stop,” Hakoda commands, his voice booming. “No matter your personal feelings towards the man _or_ his political leanings, we aren’t accusing anyone of _anything_ without evidence. We have _no_ evidence that Gilak did anything, Maliq.”

Maliq grumbles a bit, crossing his arms. “Regardless, it doesn’t change the fact that if there _was_ a police force here, this investigation would be a lot more advanced than it is right now!”

A few people murmur in the crowd, and Katara shoots Maliq a glare that could puncture a war balloon. Aang quiets everyone down again before sitting down, turning it back over to Hakoda.

“Thank you, Aang,” Hakoda says, seemingly intent on ignoring Maliq’s last comment. “Lirin, if you wouldn’t mind finishing your report?”

The rest of the search teams follow suit after Lirin finishes, but there isn’t much to report. Bato’s group found some tracks leading to the ice caves off to the east that looked like they were left by a polar leopard (“An Ijiraq, more likely!” Ashuna interjects again, before Gran Gran shushes her) that ended up leading nowhere. Katara gives the report for her, Zuko, Shuo, and Tuyen — they interviewed a few people by the docks that brought no leads, and they found nothing out of the ordinary in the water.

When all the groups are finished, Hakoda — who, as it turned out, did not know how big letters should be, so they had to go get three extra big pieces of paper to tape to the wall so he could have enough room to write everything down — places his piece of charcoal down and taps at his chin, smudging black into the skin above his beard. 

“Okay,” he says, turning to face the crowd. “We’ve made some good progress, but it’s obvious we’re going to have to begin a more thorough investigation in addition to our group search efforts. And considering the fact that we do not, as Maliq so helpfully pointed out — ” Hakoda spares a glance in Maliq’s general direction — “have a police force, I’m going to need a volunteer to lead the investigation work.”

“I will,” Zuko says immediately, standing up. Sokka can’t say he’s surprised — Zuko’s been here for three days and he hasn’t volunteered himself for anything potentially life-threatening yet, so it was only a matter of time. The only surprising thing is that it took _three whole days._ “She’s Fire Nation — it’s my job as the ambassador to look after her.”

“I’ll help him,” Sokka says, standing as well. 

“Aang and I will, too,” Katara adds.

Sokka thinks he can spot a bit of pride in Hakoda’s eyes as he writes their names down on the paper. “Alright. Zuko, Sokka, Katara, and Aang, why don’t you stay after for a bit so we can talk. Everyone else — if you just came in from searching, go get some sleep. The second search team rotation will take their shift, and we’ll meet back here at midday tomorrow to change shifts again. Any questions?” No one says anything. “Okay, let’s go.”

Everyone stands up and heads towards the front doors of the library, some to make their way home to crash and others to begin their search. Aang stands up, lending a hand to Katara to help her to her feet as well, and the two of them gather in a little circle with Sokka and Zuko as the rest of the crowd files out the door.

“Thanks, guys,” Zuko says, shooting them all a small, grateful smile.

“Of course,” Aang says, clapping him on the shoulder. 

Bato has apparently decided to stay behind, too, and he and Hakoda join their circle. “Thanks for volunteering, kids,” Hakoda says. “How about we — ”

“Wait, Koda,” Bato says, laughing. “You’ve got — ” He brings his finger up to Hakoda’s chin to try to wipe the charcoal smudge off, but somehow he just makes it worse. “Whoops.”

“Thank you,” Hakoda says, rolling his eyes.

“You look like you Omashu-kissed a badgermole,” Sokka says.

 _“Thank_ you!” Hakoda repeats. “I wasn’t aware being head chieftain was a beauty contest.”

“Life is a beauty contest, Dad,” Katara says.

“And I’m clearly winning,” Sokka adds. 

Bato makes a second attempt to wipe off the smudge and Hakoda just laughs, batting his hand away. “I’ll wash it off at home,” Hakoda says to Bato. “Anyway, as I was saying — how about you four get some rest and then strategize tomorrow morning, then we can catch up at the midday meeting.”

“That sounds good,” Zuko says, nodding.

“And, hey, maybe they’ll find her soon and we won’t even need to meet!” Aang chirps. Sokka and Zuko make eye contact and Sokka quirks a brow, as if to say, _See? Endless deposits of optimism on tap._

Hakoda tells them to go get some sleep and he and Bato head out as well, grabbing the notes from the wall before shuffling off in the direction of Hakoda’s house. 

“Come on,” Katara says, grabbing Aang’s elbow and tucking herself into his side. “I need a drink.”

They head over to Sokka’s apartment, all four of them. Appa is slumbering outside the library, but he perks up when he sees the group approaching, and Momo leaps off his perch on Zuko’s shoulder to fly in lazy circles around Appa’s head.

Katara immediately plasters herself to Appa’s fuzzy forehead, stretching her arms to give him a hug, which Appa receives with a happy rumble. Zuko and Sokka settle for petting his muzzle, which is somehow still warm even though he’s been outside in the cold night air.

“Hey, buddy,” Zuko says, moving his arm up so he can scratch behind Appa’s ear. He turns his head and notices Sokka staring at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” Sokka says quickly, because he would honestly rather light himself on fucking fire than cop to being jealous of a flying bison infringing on their special nickname territory. 

“You know,” Sokka says, ten minutes later when they’re all settled in his living room, nursing glasses of various beverages. “Maliq kind of has a point. I’m not saying we should have a police force!” Sokka points at Katara, who already has her mouth open to yell at him. “Don’t yell at me! Let me finish!”

Katara snaps her mouth shut.

“Thank you! I’m saying, we do need to have some kind of — _something,_ for when violent crimes do happen. Because if the city continues to grow at this rate, I mean… there will be crime. Eventually.”

“Then we can continue what we’re doing already,” Katara says. “Self-regulating. It’s working so far.”

“Right, I agree,” Sokka says. “I’m saying what happens if someone does something that can’t be solved by a social program? Like, I’m not talking about petty crime in the lower ring of Ba Sing Se shit — mugging people for money is obviously an issue that results from a societal failure to take care of its more disadvantaged population. I’m saying what if we have someone here who, like…”

“Does it for fun?” Zuko finishes.

“Yes,” Sokka says. “Or, not fun. Like… it’s a compulsion.”

“What the fuck, Sokka,” Katara says.

“It happens!” 

“He’s right,” Aang says. “Seriously, Suki was just telling me about someone in the Chin village that killed his entire family. Just took them all out because he wanted to start a new family with some other woman.”

“That’s obviously a societal issue, too,” Katara says. “Maybe if men stopped thinking they have a right to treat women as expendable, it wouldn’t have happened!”

“True,” Aang concedes. 

“But I suppose there is a difference between… being a sexist dickhead and killing your entire family,” Katara adds after a minute. “There’s obviously — something wrong with someone who would choose that option.”

“They could still benefit from some kind of — rehabilitation program, though,” Zuko says. “Look at Azula — I mean, she was off the fucking deep end, and now she’s almost totally stable. The answer doesn’t have to be, like, throw them in the Boiling Rock and call it a day.”

“I know,” Sokka says. “And I’m not saying we should have a police force! Again! That’s not the answer. I’m saying what if we had, like… two or three people specialized in gathering evidence, I guess. So when a violent crime _does_ happen — because it will! — we had someone or a small group of people trained to be able to find who did it.”

Aang looks thoughtful. “How would they get the positions? Elected?”

“Maybe,” Sokka shrugs. “Though, that would mean the public might elect, like, a total moron… but I don’t think they should be appointed.”

“Maybe they could be appointed by some kind of a citizen review board,” Katara says.

“That would work,” Sokka says. “And they would have to be nonviolent, obviously — they’re not enforcing the rule of law, just gathering forensic evidence… They couldn’t carry weapons.”

“What about benders, though?” Aang asks. “They could never be unarmed — we couldn’t systematically exclude benders.”

Sokka hums and turns his gaze to Zuko. They’re both sitting on the couch, Sokka’s bad leg kicked up to rest in Zuko’s lap, while Aang and Katara are smushed together on his squishy armchair. “You did a lot of police reform, right? Any suggestions?”

“Hmm.” Zuko thinks for a minute. “I’m not sure any of it would be very applicable here — we already had an established police force, and I could push through any reforms I wanted pretty easily because I was, you know — the monarch. Hakoda has some legislative power, right?”

“Some,” Katara confirms. “Everything has to be voted on by the Council of Elders to become law, though.”

“Who’s the Head Elder now? Wasn’t it Naaqtuuq?”

“It’s Anjij now,” Sokka says. “They have two year terms.”

“But anyway,” Zuko continues. “The reforms I pushed were mostly what you guys are suggesting — more programs, less throwing people in prison for, like, having a thought, you know. Since we had to shift from an entirely wartime industrial economy to — ” he waves his hand vaguely — “whatever the fuck it is now, mainly if we just provided a job guarantee, it reduced a lot of crime.”

“You don’t know what type of economy the country you were just in charge of has?” Sokka asks, teasingly.

“Ugh,” Zuko grunts. “Industry-manufacturing-agriculture-fishing-tourism just doesn’t roll off the tongue, alright?” Sokka snickers. “Anyway, those are all moot since the reforms were for an established police force — which you guys don’t have. And I don’t think you need one.”

“Why not?” Katara asks curiously. “I mean, I know why _I_ don’t want one, but why don’t you?”

Zuko takes a sip of his drink and thinks carefully for a second. “Because you guys take care of each other down here,” he says after a moment. “Everything is about — justice and punishment everywhere else. But here you — you want everyone to be okay, not just because you want to live in a peaceful society, but because you… y’know, genuinely care about people.” He shrugs. “It’s nice.”

“Aww,” Aang coos. “You would have made a great Air Nomad, Zuko!”

Sokka barks a laugh. “Please, he would have burned down the entire airball court the minute someone scored on him.”

“I wouldn’t be a firebender if I was an Air Nomad, genius,” Zuko says, rolling his eyes, so Sokka sticks his socked foot in Zuko’s face in retaliation. Zuko shoves his foot away, making a disgusted noise. “How was Kyoshi, Aang?” Zuko asks.

“Good!” Aang answers. “Except Mayor Tong showed up and tried to get me to go over to Chin village — apparently they have a new unfried dough recipe, eugh. I had to keep dodging him, Suki taught me this stealth technique called the rabaroo — wait!” Aang sits up suddenly, his eyes going wide. “Guys! Suki has a new girlfriend and she,” Aang says, “is _cute.”_

Katara _oohs_ , instantly intrigued. “What’s her name?” she asks. “She didn’t tell me in her last letter!”

“Keiko,” Aang replies. “Apparently it’s new. She’s in the Kyoshi Warriors, the left flank in the back when they do that one triangle formation. She seems cool.”

“That’s good,” Zuko says. “Better than the last girl Suki went out with?”

“God, let’s hope,” Katara says. “She was a mess.”

“And the guy before that — remember him?” Zuko asks.

“Spirits,” Aang sighs, shaking his head.

“Complete disaster,” Katara agrees.

“Hey,” Sokka frowns, furrowing his brows. “The guy before the last girl was _me!”_

Aang and Katara head out soon after, and Sokka waves at them as they leave, remaining on the couch as Zuko walks them to the door.

“Guess you’re stuck here for now,” Sokka says, yawning, as Zuko rejoins him on the couch. “Since your new digs are currently an active crime scene.”

“Somehow I think I’ll live,” Zuko says, smiling wryly over at him. “God, what a fucking mess,” he says, flopping back to slump against the cushions.

“I know.” Sokka rubs a bit at his thigh, where his muscles are still sore. “I was hoping you being here would be — I don’t know. Less… hectic?”

“It’s alright,” Zuko waves him off. “It’s not like it’s your fault. As long as I’m not in charge of an entire country, I’m good.”

“That’s too bad, I was going to ask if you wanted to be the vice president of New Sokkaland.”

“Oh?” Zuko raises his eyebrow. “Where’s that?”

“You’ll never know, now,” Sokka sighs sadly. “Presidents and vice presidents only.”

“Hmm,” Zuko hums. “What are the job perks?”

“You get to hang out with me in my super secret clubhouse.”

Zuko hums again. “I’ll consider it,” he says. “Is your leg still hurting?”

“Huh? Oh.” Sokka looks down at his fingers rubbing circles in his thigh, right above his knee. “Yeah.”

“I could — ” Zuko coughs. “Uhm. I could… try something.”

Sokka raises his eyebrows. “Descriptive.”

“I mean,” Zuko shakes his head, smiling deprecatingly at himself. “I was talking with Shuo while we were searching earlier — about how he uses his firebending for healing purposes, and stuff. He was telling me about it, I guess it works well for sore muscles. I could — give it a go.” He pauses. “If you want.”

“Oh,” Sokka says, surprised. He sits up a little straighter. “I mean. Okay.” He chews on his lip. “If you — if you would want to do that.”

Zuko scoots a little bit closer on the couch — Sokka had put his leg back on the floor when Zuko got up, so he’s sitting normally now. “How, uhm — should I prop my leg up, or…?”

“No, just leave it like that,” Zuko says. He scoots all the way over so he’s at Sokka’s side, almost touching but just barely. “Uhm.”

“It’s mainly — ” Sokka points to the area on his thigh that hurts the most, where his femur had broken all those years ago. “Right here.”

“Right,” Zuko says. He stares intently at Sokka’s thigh, silent.

“Are you just gonna stare at it, or…” Sokka ventures after a moment.

The room is dim, but Sokka thinks he can make out Zuko blushing. “Sorry! Right, uhm,” he stutters, and then places his hand, fingers splayed, right on Sokka’s thigh.

His hand is very warm already — he must have started heating it up a few seconds ago. It’s not unpleasant, though; it feels good, like sitting next to a fire after coming in from the cold, or the first sip of tea in the morning. Sokka’s apartment is fairly drafty — he supposes he should have lit the fireplace when they came in — but Zuko’s hand is warming him up even though the layer of his pants.

“That’s — ” Sokka sighs. “Okay, that’s nice.”

“Yeah?” Zuko asks. “What if I — ” he trails off, and then he starts digging his fingers into the meat of Sokka’s thigh, making little circles.

“Holy shit,” Sokka groans, flopping his head back so it’s resting against the back of the couch. 

“Good?” Zuko asks. He sounds a little breathless — Sokka can relate.

“Great,” he confirms, shooting Zuko a thumbs up. “You are the best.”

Zuko chuckles a bit and continues moving his fingers, massaging Sokka’s sore muscles. Zuko’s fingers are hard but gentle, putting just the right amount of pressure — then he switches to use the palm of his hand, concentrating a bit more heat, warming him even more. He splays his fingers out again, his hand covering the width of Sokka’s leg, and then he brings his fingers back together, digs them straight into a knot and circles them around.

It’s obvious he’s not a trained masseuse, or anything, but Sokka doesn’t mind. It feels good. Sokka stares at the ceiling as he works, occasionally closing his eyes before snapping them open again when he keeps catching himself drifting off to sleep. 

The only sound in the room is their quiet breathing. Sokka turns his head to the side so he can look at Zuko, who is staring intently at his fingers as they massage Sokka’s leg.

After a few more minutes Zuko shakes his head and removes his hand, and Sokka tries not to mourn the loss.

“Okay,” Zuko says. “Feel any better?”

“Loads,” Sokka nods, then he stands up and puts weight on the leg. _“Way_ better, seriously. Thank you.”

He looks down at Zuko, still sitting on the couch, staring back up at him. “That’s good,” Zuko says. “Just — if you want me to, like, do it again… I don’t mind. Just ask. Or,” he frowns. “You know — Shuo’s the trained healer, so you could ask him, I guess.”

Sokka considers this. “Nah,” he says after a minute. Then, just to see Zuko blush: “I’m not into old dudes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the complete list of earth kingdom zodiac signs that i made up (in order): elephant rat, badgermole, tigerdillo, rabaroo, dragon, weasel snake, ostrich horse, goat gorilla, hog monkey, pig rooster, eel hound, and wooly pig

**Author's Note:**

> my atla tumblr is [here!](https://lesbiansokkas.tumblr.com/)


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